This Innocence Begins To Weigh Me Down.

Crime, Like Virtue, Has Its Degrees.

I Have Loved Him Too Much Not To Hate

Hell, Covering All With Its Gloomy Vapors, Has Cast Shadows On Even The Holiest Eyes.

Small Crimes Always Precedes Great Ones.

Have There Ever Been More Submissive Slaves? Adoring, Even In Their Irons, The God Who Punishes Them.