Thoughts Are Tyrants That Return Again And

Proud People Breed Sad Sorrows For Themselves.

I Have No Pity! I Have No Pity! The More Worms Writhe, The More I Yearn To Crush Out Their Entrails! It Is A Moral Teething, And I Grind With Greater Energy, In Proportion To The Increase Of Pain.

I Gave Him My Heart, And He Took And Pinched It To Death; And Flung It Back To Me.

I Wish I Were A Girl Again, Half Savage And Hardy, And Free... Why Am I So Changed? I'm Sure I Should Be Myself Were I Once Among The Heather On Those Hills.

I Wish I Were A Girl Again, Half-savage And Hardy, And Free.