Do Not Cast Away An Honest Man

Thou Art Thy Mother's Glass, And She In Thee Calls Back The Lovely April Of Her Prime...

Thou Art As Wise As Thou Art Beautiful

I Must Be Gone And Live, Or Stay And Die.

I'll Read Enough When I Do See The Very Book Indeed Where All My Sins Are Writ, And That's Myself.

Nay, Had I Pow'r, I Should Pour The Sweet Milk Of Concord Into Hell, Uproar The Universal Peace, Confound All Unity On Earth.