My Stars Shine Darkly Over Me

But Yet I'll Make Assurance Double Sure, And Take A Bond Of Fate: Thou Shalt Not Live.

It Is A Sin To Be A Mocker.

My Desolation Does Begin To Make A Better Life.

There Is Nothing So Confining As The Prisons Of Our Own Perceptions.

Fondling,' She Saith, 'since I Have Hemm'd Thee Here Within The Circuit Of This Ivory Pale, I'll Be A Park, And Thou Shalt Be My Deer; Feed Where Thou Wilt, On Mountain Or In Dale: Graze On My Lips, And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.