What Art Thou Faustus, But A Man

Above Our Life We Love A Steadfast Friend.

It Is A Comfort To The Miserable To Have Comrades In Misfortune, But It Is A Poor Comfort After All.

That Perfect Bliss And Sole Felicity, The Sweet Fruition Of An Earthly Crown.

Till Swollen With Cunning, Of A Self-conceit, His Waxen Wings Did Mount Above His Reach, And, Melting, Heavens Conspir'd His Overthrow.

We Control Fifty Percent Of A Relationship. We Influence One Hundred Percent Of It.