Women's Weapons, Water-drops.

Our Purses Shall Be Proud, Our Garments Poor; For 'tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich

If We Shadows Have Offended, Think But This, And All Is Mended, That You Have But Slumber'd Here While These Visions Did Appear.

I Understand A Fury In Your Words But Not Your Words.

What's Done Cannot Be Undone. To Bed, To Bed, To Bed.

I See That The Fashion Wears Out More Apparel Than The Man.