Weep I Cannot; But My Heart Bleeds.

Tis The Eye Of Childhood That Fears A Painted Devil.

If There Were A Sympathy In Choice, War, Death, Or Sickness, Did Lay Siege To It, Making It Momentary As A Sound, Swift As A Shadow, Short As Any Dream, Brief As The Lightning In The Collied Night That, In A Spleen, Unfolds Both Heaven And Earth, And Ere A Man Hath Power To Say 'behold!' The Jaws Of Darkness Do Devour It Up; So Quick Bright Things Come To Confusion.

A Lover Goes Toward His Beloved As Enthusiastically As A Schoolboy Leaving His Books, But When He Leaves His Girlfriend, He Feels As Miserable As The Schoolboy On His Way To School. (act 2, Scene 2)

No Profit Grows Where No Pleasure Is Taken.

There Is Nothing Serious In Mortality