Death Is A Fearful Thing.

The Fortune Of Us That Are The Moon's Men Doth Ebb And Flow Like The Sea, Being Governed, As The Sea Is, By The Moon.

I Have Had A Most Rare Vision. I Have Had A Dream, Past The Wit Of Man To Say What Dream It Was.

Contention, Like A Horse, Full Of High Feeding, Madly Hath Broke Loose, And Bears Down All Before Him.

Mirth Cannot Move A Soul In Agony.

And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit Lifts Me Above The Ground With Cheerful Thoughts.