They Say Miracles Are Past.

Gnawing With My Teeth My Bonds In Sunder, I Gain'd My Freedom.

...too Much Sadness Hath Congealed Your Blood,and Melancholy Is The Nurse Of Frenzy.

And Therefore Is Love Said To Be A Child, Because In Choice He Is So Oft Beguil'd

Thus Sometimes Hath The Brightest Day A Cloud; And After Summer Evermore Succeeds Barren Winter, With His Wrathful Nipping Cold: So Cares And Joys Abound, As Seasons Fleet.

Last Scene Of All That Ends This Strange, Eventful History, Is Second Childishness And Mere Oblivion. I Am Sans Teeth, Sans Eyes, Sans Taste, Sans Everything.