Every Thing That Grows /

No Villainous Bounty Yet Hath Passed My Heart; Unwisely, Not Ignobly, Have I Given.

It Is Meant That Noble Minds Keep Ever With Their Likes; For Who So Firm That Cannot Be Seduced.

Mercy Is Not Itself, That Oft Looks So; Pardon Is Still The Nurse Of Second Woe.

For A Noble Heart, The Most Precious Gift Becomes Poor, When The Giver Stops Loving.

The Fear's As Bad As Falling.