Nothing Violent, Oft Have I Heard Tell,

Religion! O Diabole! Fie, I Am Asham'd, However That I Seem, To Think A Word Of Such Simple Sound, Of Such Great Matter Should Be Made The Ground.

The Stars Move Still, Time Runs, The Clock Will Strike

It Is A Comfort To The Miserable To Have Comrades In Misfortune, But It Is A Poor Comfort After All.

I Am Envy, Begotten Of A Chimney-sweeper And An Oyster-wife. I Cannot Read, And Therefore Wish All Books Were Burnt; I Am Lean With Seeing Others Eat - O That There Would Come A Famine Through All The World, That All Might Die, And I Live Alone; Then Thou Should'st See How Fat I Would Be! But Must Thou Sit And I Stand? Come Down, With A Vengeance!

Blood Is The God Of War's Rich Livery.