There Is Nothing Serious In Mortality

Whereto Serves Mercy But To Confront The Visage Of Offense?

In Thy Face I See The Map Of Honour, Truth And Loyalty.

Good Old Grandsire ... We Shall Be Joyful Of Thy Company.

To Persevere In Obstinate Condolement Is A Course Of Impious Stubbornness: 'tis Unmanly Grief.

My Falcon Now Is Sharp And Passing Empty, And Till She Stoop She Must Not Be Full-gorged, For Then She Never Looks Upon Her Lure.