My Mouth Is Full Of

I Did Not Know Whether I Would Ever Speak To Her Or Not Or, If I Spoke To Her, How I Could Tell Her Of My Confused Adoration. But My Body Was Like A Harp And Her Words And Gestures Were Like Fingers Running Upon The Wires.

We Are An Unfortunate Priest-ridden Race And Always Were And Always Will Be Tell The End Of The Chapter.... A Priest-ridden Godforsaken Race.

Beware The Horns Of A Bull, The Heels Of The Horse, And The Smile Of An Englishman.

Every Bond Is A Bond To Sorrow.

I Care Not If I Live But A Day And A Night, So Long As My Deeds Live After Me.