Though She Be But Little, She Is

Instinct Is A Great Matter. I Was Now A Coward On Instinct.

All That Glitters Is Not Gold; Often Have You Heard That Told: Many A Man His Life Has Sold But My Outside To Behold: Gilded Tombs Do Worms Enfold Had You Been As Wise As Bold, Your In Limbs, In Judgment Old, Your Answer Had Not Been In'scroll'd Fare You Well: Your Suit Is Cold.' Cold, Indeed, And Labour Lost: Then, Farewell, Heat And Welcome, Frost!

When Sorrows Come, They Come Not Single Spies, But In Battalions.

Feed On Her Damask Cheek: She Pined In Thought, And With A Green And Yellow Melancholy She Sat Like Patience On A Monument, Smiling At Grief

Reputation, Reputation, Reputation! O, I Ha' Lost My Reputation, I Ha' Lost The Immortal Part Of Myself, And What Remains Is Bestial!