Tis The Times' Plague, When Madmen Lead

This Thing Of Darkness I Acknowlege Mine. There Is Nothing More Confining Than The Prison We Don't Know We Are In.

Retire Me To My Milan, Where Every Third Thought Shall Be My Grave.

Our Praises Are Our Wages.

But Let The Frame Of Things Disjoint, Both The Worlds Suffer, Ere We Will Eat Our Meal In Fear, And Sleep In The Affliction Of These Terrible Dreams That Shake Us Nightly.

I Am Now Of All Humors That Have Showed Themselves Humors Since The Old Days Of Goodman Adam To The Pupil Age Of This Present Twelve O'clock At Midnight.