Love Is Not In Our

Not Sharp Revenge, Nor Hell Itself Can Find, A Fiercer Torment Than A Guilty Mind, Which Day And Night Doth Dreadfully Accuse, Condemns The Wretch, And Still The Charge Renews.

A Narrow Mind Begets Obstinacy; We Do Not Easily Believe What We Cannot See.

Ever A Glutton, At Another's Cost, But In Whose Kitchen Dwells Perpetual Frost.

Bets At First Were Fool-traps, Where The Wise Like Spiders Lay In Ambush For The Flies.

My Whole Life Has Been A Golden Dream Of Love And Friendship.