The Devil Hath Not, In All His

Lovers May Be And Indeed Generally Are Enemies, But They Never Can Be Friends, Because There Must Always Be A Spice Of Jealousy And A Something Of Self In All Their Speculations.

I Have Seen A Thousand Graves Opened, And Always Perceived That Whatever Was Gone, The Teeth And Hair Remained Of Those Who Had Died With Them. Is Not This Odd? They Go The Very First Things In Youth And Yet Last The Longest In The Dust.

Like The Measles, Love Is Most Dangerous When It Comes Late In Life.

Ah, Nut-brown Partridges! Ah, Brilliant Pheasants! And Ah, Ye Poachers!--'tis No Sport For Peasants.

Here's A Sigh To Those Who Love Me,and A Smile To Those Who Hate;and, Whatever Sky's Above Me,here's A Heart For Every Fate.