To Shoot At Crows Is Powder Flung

But His Kiss Was So Sweet, And So Closely He Pressed, That I Languished And Pined Till I Granted The Rest.

In Every Age And Clime We See Two Of A Trade Can Never Agree.

Fools May Our Scorn, Not Envy, Raise. For Envy Is A Kind Of Praise.

A Man Is Always Afraid Of A Woman That Loves Him Too Much

In Beauty Faults Conspicuous Grow; The Smallest Speck Is Seen On Snow.