The Stroke Of Death Is As A

We Wound Our Modesty And Make Foul The Clearness Of Our Deservings, When Of Ourselves We Publish Them.

Let Gentleness My Strong Enforcement Be.

Come, Go With Us, Speak Fair; You May Salve So, Not What Is Dangerous Present, But The Los Of What Is Past.

Love, Therefore, And Tongue-tied Simplicity In Least Speak Most, To My Capacity.

I Can No Longer Live By Thinking.