Were All The Letters Sun, I Could

Give Sorrow Words; The Grief That Does Not Speak Knits Up The O-er Wrought Heart And Bids It Break.

Greatness Knows Itself.

He Jests At Scars That Never Felt A Wound.

Justice Always Whirls In Equal Measure.

Coal-black Is Better Than Another Hue In That It Scorns To Bear Another Hue; For All The Water In The Ocean Can Never Turn The Swan's Black Legs To White, Although She Lave Them Hourly In The Flood.