Whoever Is King, Is Also The Father

Guilt Is Ever At A Loss, And Confusion Waits Upon It; When Innocence And Bold Truth Are Always Ready For Expression.

I Nauseate Walking; 'tis A Country Diversion, I Loathe The Country.

Nor Hell A Fury, Like A Woman Scorn'd.

No, I'm No Enemy To Learning; It Hurts Not Me.

She Likes Herself, Yet Others Hates, For That Which In Herself She Prizes; And While She Laughs At Them, Forgets She Is The Thing That She Despises.