Thou And I Are Too Wise To

Where The Greater Malady Is Fixed, The Lesser Is Scarce Felt.

So Far Be Distant; And Good Night, Sweet Friend: Thy Love Ne'er Alter, Till They Sweet Life End

There Is No More Mercy In Him Than There Is Milk In A Male Tiger.

Do As The Heavens Have Done, Forget Your Evil; With Them Forgive Yourself.

When He Shall Die, Take Him And Cut Him Out In Little Stars, And He Will Make The Face Of Heaven So Fine That All The World Will Be In Love With Night And Pay No Worship To The Garish Sun.