They Met So Near With Their Lips

The Tongues Of Dying Men Enforce Attention Like Deep Harmony.

Instead Of Weeping When A Tragedy Occurs In A Songbird's Life, It Sings Away Its Grief. I Believe We Could Well Follow The Pattern Of Our Feathered Friends.

Care For Us! True, Indeed! They Ne'er Cared For Us Yet: Suffer Us To Famish, And Their Storehouses Crammed With Grain; Make Edicts For Usury, To Support Usurers; Repeal Daily Any Wholesome Act Established Against The Rich, And Provide More Piercing Statutes Daily To Chain Up And Restrain The Poor. If The Wars Eat Us Not Up, They Will; And There's All The Love They Bear Us.

That Man That Hath A Tongue, I Say Is No Man, If With His Tongue He Cannot Win A Woman.

When Our Actions Do Not, Our Fears Make Us Traitors.