The Best Wine Is The Oldest, The

What Has Reasoning To Do With Painting?

You Smile With Pomp And Rigor, You Talk Of Benevolence And Virtue; I Act With Benevolence And Virtue And Get Murdered Time After Time.

Mysteries Are Not To Be Solved. They Eye Goes Blind When It Only Wants To See Why.

Death Is Terrible, Tho' Borne On Angels' Wings!

My Silks And Fine Array, My Smiles And Languished Air, By Love Are Driv'n Away And Mournful Lean Despair Brings Me Yew To Deck My Grave: Such End True Lovers Have.