Do Not They Bring It To Pass

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

Wrinkles On The Brow Are The Imprints Of Exploits.

When I'm Carried Away, Isn't It Clear That My Heart Contradicts My Mouth?

Crime, Like Virtue, Has Its Degrees.

The Quarrels Of Lovers Are The Renewal Of Love.