Be Still My Heart; Thou

There Is Nothing More Dread And More Shameless Than A Woman Who Plans Such Deeds In Her Heart As The Foul Deed Which She Plotted When She Contrived Her Husband's Murder.

And Rest At Last Where Souls Unbodied Dwell, In Ever-flowing Meads Of Asphodel.

[but] Age, The Common Enemy Of Mankind, Has Laid His Hand Upon You; Would That It Had Fallen Upon Some Other, And That You Were Still Young.

Ah, Beer, My One Weakness. My Achille's Heel, If You Will.

For Love Deceives The Best Of Woman Kind.