Flight Is Lawful, When One Flies From

Crime Like Virtue Has Its Degrees; And Timid Innocence Was Never Known To Blossom Suddenly Into Extreme License.

Me, Rule? Me, Place The State Under My Law, When My Feeble Reason No Longer Rules Even Myself!

Ah, Why Can't I Know If I Love, Or If I Hate?

He Who Will Travel Far Spares His Steed.

What Does It Matter If, By Chance, A Little Vile Blood Be Spilled?