A Person Who Has Not Done One

Terror Made Me Cruel.

No Coward Soul Is Mine, No Trembler In The World's Storm-troubled Sphere.

If He Loved With All The Powers Of His Puny Being, He Couldn't Love As Much In Eighty Years As I Could In A Day.

Oh, For The Time When I Shall Sleep Without Identity.

It Is Hard To Forgive, And To Look At Those Eyes, And Feel Those Wasted Hands,' He Answered. 'kiss Me Again; And Don’t Let Me See Your Eyes! I Forgive What You Have Done To Me. I Love My Murderer—but Yours! How Can I?