It Is Not, Nor It Cannot, Come

But What's So Blessed-fair That Fears No Blot? Thou Mayst Be False, And Yet I Know It Not.

Farewell, Fair Cruelty.

The Love Of Wicked Men Converts To Fear; That Fear To Hate, And Hate Turns One Or Both To Worthy Danger And Deserved Death.

Let Me Have Men About Me That Are Fat... Yond Cassius Has A Lean And Hungry Look. He Thinks Too Much: Such Men Are Dangerous.

My Grief Lies All Within, And These External Manners Of Lament Are Merely Shadows To The Unseen Grief That Swells With Silence In The Tortured Soul.