Lone Women, Like To Empty Houses, Perish.

Things That Are Not At All, Are Never Lost.

Come Live With Me And Be My Love, And We Will All The Pleasures Prove, That Valleys, Groves, Hills, And Fields, Woods, Or Steepy Mountain Yields.

Virtue Is The Fount Whence Honour Springs.

Our Swords Shall Play The Orators For Us.

Had I As Many Souls As There Be Stars, I'd Give Them All For Mephistopheles!