A Rotten Case Abides No Handling.

Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltness Of Time.

But Jealous Souls Will Not Be Answered So, They Are Not Ever Jealous For The Cause, But Jealous For They're Jealous. 'tis A Monster Begot Upon Itself, Born On Itself.

Open Thy Gate Of Mercy, Gracious God, My Soul Flies Through These Wounds To Seek Out Thee.

He Kills Her In Her Own Humor.

Tis In Ourselves That We Are Thus, Or Thus.