Accursed Be The City Where The Laws

Such Is Your Cold Coquette, Who Can't Say "no," And Won't Say "yes," And Keeps You On And Off-ing On A Lee-shore, Till It Begins To Blow, Then Sees Your Heart Wreck'd, With An Inward Scoffing.

Shakespeare's Name, You May Depend On It, Stands Absurdly Too High And Will Go Down.

I Am So Changeable, Being Everything By Turns And Nothing Long - Such A Strange Melange Of Good And Evil.

Sighing That Nature Formed But One Such Man, And Broke The Die.

Oh, Christ! It Is A Goodly Sight To See What Heaven Hath Done For This Delicious Land!