Graze On My Lips; And If Those

Away, You Trifler! Love! I Love Thee Not, I Care Not For Thee, Kate: This Is No World To Play With Mammets And To Tilt With Lips: We Must Have Bloody Noses And Cracked Crowns.

A Victory Is Twice Itself When The Achiever Brings Home Full Numbers.

Death, A Necessary End, Will Come When It Will Come

Love, Which Teacheth Me That Thou And I Am One

We Make Trifles Of Terrors, Ensconcing Ourselves Into Seeming Knowledge, When We Should Submit Ourselves To An Unknown Fear.