I Had As Lief Have Been Myself

Time And The Hour Run Through The Roughest Day.

I Love Thee, I Love Thee With A Love That Shall Not Die. Till The Sun Grows Cold And The Stars Grow Old.

Silence Is The Perfectest Herault Of Joy. I Were But Little Happy If I Could Say How Much.

Fat Paunches Have Lean Pates, And Dainty Bits Make Rich The Ribs, But Backrout Quite The Wits.

That Which I Would Discover The Law Of Friendship Bids Me To Conceal.