On A Huge Hill, Cragged,

My World's Both Parts, And 'o! Both Parts Must Die.

When I Died Last, And, Dear, I Die As Often As From Thee I Go Though It Be But An Hour Ago, And Lovers' Hours Be Full Eternity.

Who Knows His Virtues Name Or Place, Hath None.

Solitude Is A Torment Which Is Not Threatened In Hell Itself.

Festive Alcohol Sometimes Leads To An Excess Of Honesty.