The Breach Of Custom Is Breach Of

We Must Love Men, Ere To Us They Will Seem Worthy Of Our Love.

God Shall Be My Hope, My Stay, My Guide And Lantern To My Feet.

Time Is Like A Fashionable Host That Slightly Shakes His Parting Guest By The Hand, And With His Arm Outstretch'd, As He Would Fly, Grasps In The Comer.

Mend When Thou Canst; Be Better At Thy Leisure.

Did My Heart Love Till Now? Forswear It, Sight! For I Ne'er Saw True Beauty Till This Night.