Unnatural Deeds Do Breed Unnatural Troubles.

Who Is It Can Read A Woman?

Rumour Is A Pipe Blown By Surmises, Jealousies, Conjectures And Of So Easy And So Plain A Stop That The Blunt Monster With Uncounted Heads, The Still-discordant Wavering Multitude, Can Play Upon It.

Nothing In His Life Became Him Like Leaving It.

Why, What's The Matter, That You Have Such A February Face, So Full Of Frost, Of Storm And Cloudiness?

Fair Thoughts And Happy Hours Attend On You.