Speak What We Feel, Not What We

Master, Go On, And I Will Follow Thee To The Last Gasp With Truth And Loyalty.

You Cannot Call It Love, For At Your Age The Heyday In The Blood Is Tame

There's Rosemary, That's For Remembrance; Pray You, Love, Remember: And There Is Pansies, That's For Thoughts. There's Fennel For You, And Columbines: — There 's Rue For You; And Here's Some For Me: — We May Call It, Herb Of Grace O'sundays: — You May Wear Your Rue With A Difference. — There's A Daisy: — I Would Give You Some Violets; But They Withered All, When My Father Died: — They Say, He Made A Good End.

Each Substance Of A Grief Has Twenty Shadows.

Go Hang Yourself, You Naughty Mocking Uncle!