Life Is Too Short For Chess.

All Tragedies Are Finished By A Death, All Comedies Are Ended By A Marriage.

So Do The Dark In Soul Expire, Or Live Like Scorpion Girt By Fire; So Writhes The Mind Remorse Hath Riven, Unfit For Earth, Undoom'd For Heaven, Darkness Above, Despair Beneath, Around It Flame, Within It Death.

I Am Always Most Religious Upon A Sunshiny Day.

I Learned To Love Despair.

The Devil Hath Not, In All His Quiver's Choice, An Arrow For The Heart Like A Sweet Voice.