In Thy Face I See The Map

Man, Proud Man, Drest In A Little Brief Authority, Most Ignorant Of What He's Most Assur D, Glassy Essence, Like An Angry Ape, Plays Such Fantastic Tricks Before High Heaven, As Make The Angels Weep.

O, Let My Books Be Then The Eloquence And Dumb Presages Of My Speaking Breast.

Extremity Is The Trier Of Spirits.

Eternity Was In Our Lips And Eyes, Bliss In Our Brows' Bent; None Our Parts So Poor But Was A Race Of Heaven.

Farewell, Fair Cruelty.