Thoughts Are Tyrants That Return

It Is Strange People Should Be So Greedy, When They Are Alone In The World.

You're Hard To Please: So Many Friends And So Few Cares, And Can't Make Yourself Content.

A Heaven So Clear, An Earth So Calm, So Sweet, So Soft, So Hushed An Air; And, Deepening Still The Dreamlike Charm, Wild Moor-sheep Feeding Everywhere.

You Know That I Could As Soon Forget You As My Existence!

Your Presence Is A Moral Poison That Would Contaminate The Most Virtuous