The People Are The City.

Tis Ever Common That Men Are Merriest When They Are From Home.

One Good Deed Dying Tongueless Slaughters A Thousand Waiting Upon That. Our Praises Are Our Wages.

It Is My Soul That Calls Upon My Name; How Silver-sweet Sound Lovers' Tongues By Night, Like Softest Music To Attending Ears! -romeo

Is Man No More Than This? Consider Him Well. Thou Ow'st The Worm No Silk, The Beast No Hide, The Sheep No Wool, The Cat No Perfume. Here's Three On's Are Sophisticated. Thou Art The Thing Itself; Unaccommodated Man Is No More Than Such A Poor, Bare, Forked Animal As Thou Art.

I Do Begin To Have Bloody Thoughts.