There Is No More Mercy In Him

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

'tis Not Enough To Help The Feeble Up, But To Support Them After.

A Jest's Prosperity Lies In The Ear

O, Spirit Of Love, How Quick And Fresh Art Thou!

I Stalk About Her Door, Like A Strange Soul Upon The Stygian Banks Staying For Waftage.