Stones Have Been Known To Move And

So Our Virtues Lie In The Interpretation Of The Time

I, Measuring His Affections By My Own, Which Then Most Sought Where Most Might Not Be Found, Being One Too Many By My Weary Self, Pursued My Humor Not Pursuing His, And Gladly Shunned Who Gladly Fled From Me.

O Lord That Lends Me Life, Lend Me A Heart Replete With Thankfulness!

The Gray-eyed Morn Smiles On The Frowning Night, Checkering The Eastern Clouds With Streaks Of Light.

To Gild Refined Gold, To Paint The Lily... Is Wasteful And Ridiculous Excess