I Can Hardly Forbear Hurling Things At

My Pride Fell With My Fortunes.

I Love You More Than Word Can Wield The Matter, Dearer Than Eye-sight, Space And Liberty

The Deep Of Night Is Crept Upon Our Talk, And Nature Must Obey Necessity.

There Is No Sure Foundation Set On Blood, No Certain Life Achieved By Others' Death.

They Say, The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention, Like Deep Harmony; Where Words Are Scarce, They're Seldom Spent In Vain; For They Breathe Truth, That Breathe Their Words In Pain.