Consistency Is Only Suitable For Ridicule.

My Fair One, Let Us Swear An Eternal Friendship.

You Are My Peace, My Solace, My Salvation.

Ah, There Are No Longer Any Children!

Then Worms Shall Try That Long Preserved Virginity, And Your Quaint Honor Turn To Dust, And Into Ashes All My Lust. The Grave's A Fine And Private Place But None, I Think, Do There Embrace.

Esteem Must Be Founded On Some Sort Of Preference. Bestow It On Everybody And It Ceases To Have Any Meaning At All.