Thy Food Is Such As Hath Been

All Dark And Comfortless.

The One I Love Is The Son Of The One I Hate! -juliet P. 75

Enjoy'd No Sooner But Despised Straight, Past Reason Hunted, And No Sooner Had Past Reason Hated

Tis But A Base, Ignoble Mind That Mounts No Higher Than A Bird Can Soar.

One Good Deed Dying Tongueless Slaughters A Thousand Waiting Upon That. Our Praises Are Our Wages.