The Past Cannot Be Cured.

Mr. Doctor, That Loose Gown Becomes You So Well I Wonder Your Notions Should Be So Narrow.

I Plucke Up The Goodlie Greene Herbes Of Sentences By Pruning, Eat Them By Reading, Chawe Them By Musing, And Laie Them Up At Length In The Hie Seate Of Memorie By Gathering Them Together; That I, Having Tasted The Sweetenes, L May The Lesse Perceave The Bitternes Of This Miserable Life.

He Who Placed Me In This Seat Will Keep Me Here.

I Have The Heart Of A Man, Not A Woman, And I Am Not Afraid Of Anything.

I Will Have Here But One Mistress And No Master.