Who Soars Too Near The Sun, With

I Should Think This A Gull, But That The White-bearded Fellow Speaks It; Knavery Cannot, Sure, Hide Himself In Such Reverence.

Death Is My Son-in-law. Death Is My Heir. My Daughter He Hath Wedded. I Will Die, And Leave Him All. Life, Living, All Is Death’s.

I Did Never Know So Full A Voice Issue From So Empty A Heart: But The Saying Is True 'the Empty Vessel Makes The Greatest Sound'.

Call Me What Instrument You Will, Though You Can Fret Me, You Cannot Play Upon Me.

Is Love A Tender Thing? It Is Too Rough, Too Rude, Too Boisterous, And It Pricks Like Thorn.