There's Daggers In Men's Smiles.

The Setting Sun, And The Music At The Close, As The Last Taste Of Sweets, Is Sweetest Last, Writ In Rememberance More Than Long Things Past.

Love Is Merely A Madness, And, I Tell You, Deserves As Well A Dark House And A Whip As Madmen Do.

All Things That Are, Are With More Spirit Chased Than Enjoyed.

The Amity That Wisdom Knits Not, Folly May Easily Untie.

Lord, I Could Not Endure A Husband With A Beard On His Face! I Had Rather Lie In The Woolen.