Love Is A Wonderful, Terrible Thing

The Cunning Livery Of Hell.

A Knot You Are Of Damned Bloodsuckers.

Thou Hast Her, France; Let Her Be Thine, For We Have No Such Daughter, Nor Shall Ever See That Face Of Hers Again. Therefore Be Gone Without Our Grace, Our Love, Our Benison.

Sweet Are The Uses Of Adversity

A Dream Itself Is But A Shadow.