Let Every Eye Negotiate For Itself And

How Many Cowards Whose Hearts Are All As False As Stairs Of Sand, Wear Yet Upon Their Chins The Beards Of Hercules And Frowning Mars, Who Inward Searched, Have Livers White As Milk!

Sometimes When We Are Labeled, When We Are Branded Our Brand Becomes Our Calling.

For Which Of My Bad Parts Didst Thou First Fall In Love With Me?

Had I But Died An Hour Before This Chance, I Had Liv'd A Blessed Time; For, From This Instant, There's Nothing Serious In Mortality: All Is But Toys; Renown, And Grace Is Dead; The Wine Of Life Is Drawn, And The Mere Lees Is Left This Vault To Brag Of.

The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose.