Most Friendship Is Feigning, Most Loving Mere

We Fail! But Screw Your Courage To The Sticking-place, And We'll Not Fail.

Who Soars Too Near The Sun, With Golden Wings, Melts Them.

I And My Bosom Must Debate Awhile, And Then I Would No Other Company.

When Griping Grief The Heart Doth Wound, And Doleful Dumps The Mind Opresses, Then Music, With Her Silver Sound, With Speedy Help Doth Lend Redress.

Trifles Light As Air Are To The Jealous Confirmations Strong As Proofs Of Holy Writ.