All Dark And Comfortless.

A Blind Man Can't Forget The Eyesight He Lost, Show Me Any Beautiful Girl. How Can Her Beauty Not Remind Me Of The One Whose Beauty Surpasses Hers?

Too Nice, And Yet Too True!

I Am Indeed Not Her Fool, But Her Corrupter Of Words. (act Iii, Sc. I, 37-38)

Sorrow Breaks Seasons And Reposing Hours, Makes The Night Morning, And The Noontide Night.

In Time The Savage Bull Doth Bear The Yoke.