Were Kisses All The Joys In Bed,

Thus With A Kiss I Die

Methinks Sometimes I Have No More Wit Than A Christian.

Yield Not Thy Neck To Fortunes Yoke, But Let Thy Dauntless Mind Still Ride In Triumph Over All Mischance.

These Earthly Godfathers Of Heaven's Lights, That Give A Name To Every Fixed Star, Have No More Profit Of Their Shining Nights Than Those That Walk And Know Not What They Are.

We Have Seen Better Days.