Appetite, A Universal Wolf.

Death, That Hath Suck'd The Honey Of Thy Breath Hath Had No Power Yet Upon Thy Beauty.

Devoutly To Be Wish'd. To Die, To Sleep; To Sleep, Perchance To Dream—for In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come,when We Have Shuffled Off This Mortal Coil, Must Give Us Pause, There's The Respect, That Makes Calamity Of So Long Life

Discuss Unto Me: Art Thou Officer, Or Art Thou Base, Common, And Popular?

Good Things Should Be Praised.

Light And Lust Are Deadly Enemies.