And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

A Countenance More In Sorrow Than In Anger.

We Are Not The First Who With Best Meaning Have Incurred The Worst

All Lovers Swear More Performance Than They Are Able, And Yet Reserve An Ability That They Never Perform; Vowing More Than The Perfection Of Ten, And Discharging Less Than The Tenth Part Of One.

There's Nothing In This World Can Make Me Joy.

Honour Travels In A Strait So Narrow Where One But Goes Abreast.