When Great Leaves Fall, The Winter Is

Every Man Has A Bag Hanging Before Him, In Which He Puts His Neighbour's Faults, And Another Behind Him In Which He Stows His Own.

Mine Eyes Were Not In Fault, For She Was Beautiful; Mine Ears, That Heard Her Flattery; Nor My Heart, That Thought Her Like Her Seeming. It Had Been Vicious To Have Mistrusted Her.

We Are Ready To Try Our Fortunes To The Last Man.

Neither My Place, Nor Aught I Heard Of Business, Hath Raised Me From My Bed; Nor Doth The General Care Take Hold On Me; For My Particular Grief Is Of So Floodgate And O'erbearing Nature That It Engluts And Swallows Other Sorrows, And It Is Still Itself.

We Have Seen Better Days.