The Devil...the Prowde Spirite...cannot Endure To Be

From Plants That Wake When Others Sleep, From Timid Jasmine Buds That Keep Their Odour To Themselves All Day, But When The Sunlight Dies Away Let The Delicious Secret Out To Every Breeze That Roams About.

Fond Memory Brings The Light Of Other Days Around Me.

Disguise Our Bondage As We Will, 'tis Woman, Woman, Rules Us Still.

Disappointments In Love, Even Betrayals And Losses, Serve The Soul At The Very Moment They Seem In Life To Be Tragedies. The Soul Is Partly In Time And Partly In Eternity. We Might Remember The Part That Resides In Eternity When We Feel Despair Over The Part That Is In Life.

You May Break, You May Shatter The Vase, If You Will, But The Scent Of The Roses Will Hang Round It Still.