It's Impossible To Ravish Me, I'm So

Hence, All You Vain Delights, As Short As Are The Nights Wherein You Spend Your Folly! There's Naught In This Life Sweet But Only Melancholy; O Sweetest Melancholy!

The Coward's Weapon, Poison.

O Woman, Perfect Woman! What Distraction Was Meant To Mankind When Thou Wast Made A Devil!

Man Is His Own Star, And The Soul That Can, Render An Honest And A Perfect Man, Commands All Light, All Influence, All Fate: Nothing To Him Falls Early Or Too Late. Our Acts Are Angels Are, For Good Or Ill: Our Fatal Shadows That Walk By Us Still.

Only Look To Jesus. He Died For You, Died In Your Place, Died Under The Frowns Of Heaven, That We Might Die Under Its Smile.