Can It Be Chat Modesty

Many Can Brook The Weather That Love Not The Wind.

To Be Slow In Words Is A Woman's Only Virtue.

O That My Tongue Were In The Thunder's Mouth! Then With Passion Would I Shake The World.

O Thou That Dost Inhabit In My Breast, Leave Not The Mansion So Long Tenantless; Lest, Growing Ruinous, The Building Fall And Leave No Memory Of What It Was!

Pain Pays The Income Of Each Precious Thing.