Dancing Is The Poetry Of The Foot.

One Cannot Say He Wanted Wit, But Rather That He Was Frugal Of It.

Fattened In Vice, So Callous And So Gross, He Sins And Sees Not, Senseless Of His Loss.

Such Subtle Covenants Shall Be Made,till Peace It Self Is War In Masquerade.

My Heart's So Full Of Joy, That I Shall Do Some Wild Extravagance Of Love In Public; And The Foolish World, Which Knows Not Tenderness, Will Think Me Mad.

The Bravest Men Are Subject Most To Chance.