Silence, Maiden; Thy Tongue Outruns Thy Discretion.

Guilt, Though It May Attain Temporal Splendor, Can Never Confer Real Happiness; The Evil Consequences Of Our Crimes Long Survive Their Commission, And, Like The Ghosts Of The Murdered, Forever Haunt The Steps Of The Malefactor; While The Paths Of Virtue, Though Seldom Those Of Worldly Greatness, Are Always Those Of Pleasantness And Peace.

...crystal And Hearts Would Lose All Their Merit In The World If It Were Not For Their Fragility.

As Good Play For Nothing, You Know, As Work For Nothing.

'tis An Old Tale, And Often Told; But Did My Fate And Wish Agree, Ne'er Had Been Read, In Story Old, Of Maiden True Betray'd For Gold, That Loved, Or Was Avenged, Like Me!

I Was Born A Scotsman And A Bare One. Therefore I Was Born To Fight My Way In The World.