Truth Needs No Color; Beauty,

Shall I Not Take Mine Ease In Mine Inn But I Shall Have My Pocket Picked?

Women May Fail When There Is No Strength In Man

So We Grew Together Like To A Double Cherry, Seeming Parted, But Yet An Union In Partition, Two Lovely Berries Molded On One Stem.

To This Urn Let Those Repair That Are Either True Or Fair; For These Dead Birds Sigh A Prayer.

The Sweets We Wish For, Turn To Loathed Sours, Even In The Moment That We Call Them Ours.