Were Kisses All The Joys

So Loving To My Mother, That He Might Not Beteem The Winds Of Heaven, Visit Her Face' Too Roughly.

He Was Met Even Now As Mad As The Vex'd Sea; Singing Aloud; Crown'd With Rank Fumiter And Furrow-weeds, With Bur-docks, Hemlock, Nettles, Cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, And All The Idle Weeds That Grow In Our Sustaining Corn.

I Shall Show The Cinders Of My Spirits Through The Ashes Of My Chance.

Loathsome Canker Lives In Sweetest Bud.

Words Spoken Can Not Be Recalled So Think Twice Before You Speak.