We Know What We Are, But Know

Rich Gifts Wax Poor When Givers Prove Unkind.

Light And Lust Are Deadly Enemies.

No, I Will Be The Pattern Of All Patience; I Will Say Nothing.

Here's Flowers For You; Hot Lavender, Mints, Savoury, Marjoram; The Marigold, That Goes To Bed Wi' The Sun And With Him Rises Weeping: These Are Flowers Of Middle Summer, And I Think They Are Given To Men Of Middle Age.

Unhappy That I Am, I Cannot Heave My Heart Into My Mouth.