Glory Is Like A Circle

Dissembling Harlot, Thou Art False In All!

This Thought Is As A Death.

I Know Them, Yea, And What They Weigh, Even To The Utmost Scruple; Scambling, Out-facing, Fashion-mong'ring Boys, That Lie, And Cog, And Flout, Deprave, And Slander, Go Antickly, And Show Outward Hideousness, And Speak Off Half A Dozen Dangerous Words, How They Might Hurt Their Enemies, If They Durst; And This Is All.

I Have A Bone To Pick With Fate

I Have Heard It Said There Is An Art Which In Their Piedness Shares With Great Creating Nature.