Love Is The Crowning Grace Of Humanity.

How Quick The Old Woe Follows A Little Bliss!

I Saw The Tracks Of Angels In The Earth: The Beauty Of Heaven Walking By Itself On The World.

Death Is A Sleep That Ends Our Dreaming. Oh, That We May Be Allowed To Wake Before Death Wakes Us.

Go, Grieving Rimes Of Mine, To That Hard Stone Whereunder Lies My Darling, Lies My Dear, And Cry To Her To Speak From Heaven's Sphere.

Sameness Is The Mother Of Disgust, Variety The Cure.