When You Depart From Me Sorrow Abides

He Thinks Too Much. Such Men Are Dangerous.

I Am Too Old To Fawn Upon A Nurse, Too Far In Years To Be A Pupil Now.

The Plants Look Up To Heaven, From Whence They Have Their Nourishment.

O, Grief Hath Changed Me Since You Saw Me Last, And Careful Hours With Time's Deformed Hand Have Written Strange Defeatures In My Face. But Tell Me Yet, Dost Thou Not Know My Voice?

No, I Will Be The Pattern Of All Patience; I Will Say Nothing.