Love Is A Smoke Made With The

I Have Seen Better Faces In My Time Than Stands On Any Shoulder That I See Before Me At This Instant.

So Many Miseries Have Craz'd My Voice, That My Woe-wearied Tongue Is Still And Mute.

This Thing Of Darkness I Acknowlege Mine. There Is Nothing More Confining Than The Prison We Don't Know We Are In.

I Wonder That You Will Still Be Talking. Nobody Marks You.

Roses Have Thorns, And Silver Fountains Mud; Clouds And Eclipses Stain Both Moon And Sun, And Loathsome Canker Lies In Sweetest Bud. All Men Make Faults.