Bloody Instructions, Which, Being Taught, Return To

Tis In Ourselves That We Are Thus Or Thus. Our Bodies Are Our Gardens To The Which Our Wills Are Gardeners.

Merrily, Merrily Shall I Live Now, Under The Blossom That Hangs On The Bough.

Love's Gentle Spring Doth Always Fresh Remain.

Give Me My Sin Again.

How Lush And Lusty The Grass Looks! How Green!