Grief Best Is Pleased With Grief's Society.

'tis Pride That Pulls The Country Down.

Do Not Spread The Compost On The Weeds.

I Have Lov'd Her Ever Since I Saw Her; And Still I See Her Beautiful

Teach Not Thy Lip Such Scorn, For It Was Made For Kissing, Lady, Not For Such Contempt.

However Wickedness Outstrips Men, It Has No Wings To Fly From God.