Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong

Let's Talk Of Graves, Of Worms, And Epitaphs; Make Dust Our Paper, And With Rainy Eyes Write Sorrow On The Bosom Of The Earth.... [w]hat Can We Bequeath, Save Our Deposed Bodies To The Ground?... [n]othing Can We Call Our Own, But Death... [l]et Us Sit Upon The Ground, And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings: - How Some Have Been Depos'd, Some Slain In War; Some Haunted By The Ghosts They Have Depos'd.

Your Hearts Are Mighty, Your Skins Are Whole.

The Devil Shall Have His Bargain; For He Was Never Yet A Breaker Of Proverbs--he Will Give The Devil His Due.

We Waste Our Lights In Vain, Like Lamps By Day.

Beware The Leader Who Bangs The Drums Of War In Order To Whip The Citizenry Into A Patriotic Fervor.