I Ought To Be Thy Adam, But

Polluted By Crimes, And Torn By The Bitterest Remorse, Where Can I Find Rest But In Death?

If You Will Comply With My Conditions, I Will Leave Them And You At Peace; But If You Refuse, I Will Glut The Maw Of Death, Until It Be Satiated With The Blood Of Your Remaining Friends.

Elegance Is Inferior To Virtue.

Even The Eternal Skies Weep, I Thought; Is There Any Shame Then, That Mortal Man Should Spend Himself In Tears?

In My Joy I Thrust My Hand Into The Live Embers, But Quickly Drew It Out With A Cry Of Pain. How Strange, I Thought That The Same Cause Should Produce Such Opposite Effects.