Take It In What Sense Thou Wilt.

A Violet In The Youth Of Primy Nature, Forward, Not Permanent--sweet, Not Lasting; The Perfume And Suppliance Of A Minute; No More.

Full Many A Glorious Morn I Have Seen Flatter The Mountain-tops With Sovereign Eye, Kissing With Golden Face The Meadows Green, Gilding Pale Streams With Heavenly Alchemy.

Nothing Emboldens Sin So Much As Mercy.

Let Witchcraft Join With Beauty, Lust With Both!

Love For Thy Love , And Hand For Hand I Give.