Our Minds Need Relaxation, And Give Way

Cover That Bosom That I Must Not See: Souls Are Wounded By Such Things.

Frankly, It's Good Enough To Lock Up In A Drawer.

Innocence Is Not Accustomed To Blush. [fr., L'innocence A Rougir N'est Point Accoutumee.]

You Never See The Old Austerity That Was The Essence Of Civility; Young People Hereabouts, Unbridled, Now Just Want.

My Fair One, Let Us Swear An Eternal Friendship.