Crime Like Virtue Has Its Degrees; And

A Tragedy Need Not Have Blood And Death; It's Enough That It All Be Filled With That Majestic Sadness That Is The Pleasure Of Tragedy.

To Repair The Irreparable Ravages Of Time.

Vice, Like Virtue, Grows In Small Steps, And No True Innocence Can Ever Fall At Once To Deepest Guilt.

My Death, Taking The Light From My Eyes, Gives Back To The Day The Purity Which They Soiled.

Love Is Not Dumb. The Heart Speaks Many Ways.