Misery Makes Sport To Mock Itself.

Why, Thou Owest God A Death.

For The Poor Wren (the Most Diminutive Of Birds) Will Fight, Her Young Ones In Her Nest, Against The Owl.

Full Oft We See Cold Wisdom Waiting On Superfluous Folly.

Of All Base Passions, Fear Is The Most Accursed.

My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still.