O, The Blood More Stirs To Rouse

To Have Seen Much And To Have Nothing Is To Have Rich Eyes And Poor Hands.

What The Vengeance, Could He Not Speak 'em Fair?

Night's Candles Have Burned Out, And Jocund Day Stands Tiptoe On The Misty Mountaintops." Hope Tinged With Melancholy - Like Life.

Be Not Too Tame Neither, But Let Your Own Discretion Be Your Tutor; Suit The Action To The Word, The Word To The Action.

For What Is Wedlock Forced But A Hell, An Age Of Discord And Continual Strife? Whereas The Contrary Bringeth Bliss, And Is A Pattern Of Celestial Peace.