Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear

It Is War's Prize To Take All Vantages; And Ten To One Is No Impeach Of Valor.

So Now I Have Confessed That He Is Thine, And I My Self Am Mortgaged To Thy Will, My Self I'll Forfeit, So That Other Mine, Thou Wilt Restore To Be My Comfort Still.

. . . Nothing In His Life Became Him Like The Leaving It; He Died As One That Had Been Studied In His Death To Throw Away The Dearest Thing He Owed, As 'twere A Careless Trifle.

Are You Up To Your Destiny?

Conscience Is But A Word That Cowards Use, Devised At First To Keep The Strong In Awe