The Dew Of Compassion Is A Tear.

For Through The South The Custom Still Commands The Gentleman To Kiss The Lady's Hands.

We Of The Craft Are All Crazy.

Heaven Gives Its Favourites-early Death.

It Is True From Early Habit, One Must Make Love Mechanically As One Swims; I Was Once Very Fond Of Both, But Now As I Never Swim Unless I Tumble Into The Water, I Don't Make Love Till Almost Obliged.

This Is To Be Mortal, And Seek The Things Beyond Mortality.