Sometimes Blood, For The Sake Of Sparing

For 'tis Impossible Hate To Return With Love.

The Time For Hope Is Gone, And Come For Fear.

Disgrace Does Not Consist In The Punishment, But In The Crime.

There Is A Silence, The Child Of Love, Which Expresses Everything, And Proclaims More Loudly Than The Tongue Is Able To Do; There Are Movements That Are Involuntary Proofs Of What The Soul Feels.

Joy Surfeited Turns To Sorrow.