Fill High The Cup With

Friendship Is Love Without His Wings!

None Are So Desolate But Something Dear, Dearer Than Self, Possesses Or Possess'd A Thought, And Claims The Homage Of A Tear.

In Itself A Thought, A Slumbering Thought Is Capable Of Years; And Curdles A Long Life Into One Hour.

Absence - That Common Cure Of Love.

He Was A Man Of His Times. With One Virtue And A Thousand Crimes. (the Corsair)