Better Three Hours Too Soon Than A

I Had Rather Eleven Died Nobly For Their Country Than One Voluptuously Surfeit Out Of Action.

What Freezings I Have Felt, What Dark Days Seen, What Old December's Bareness Everywhere!

All Hoods Make Not Monks.

My Only Love Sprung From My Only Hate! Too Early Seen Unknown, And Known Too Late! Prodigious Birth Of Love It Is To Me, That I Must Love A Loathed Enemy.

To Weep Is To Make Less The Depth Of Grief.