To Myself Alone Do I Owe My

This Dark Brightness That Falls From The Stars.

Heaven Often Regulates Effects By Their Causes, And Pays The Wicked What They Have Deserved.

And The Combat Ceased, For Want Of Combatants.

It Is Only Blood That Can Wash Away Such An Outrage; Die Or Kill.

I Would Tell You I Love You, Sir, If I Knew What It Was To Love.