He makes no friend who never made a foe.

With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart.

Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell when I embark.

Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.

Sweet were the days when I was all unknown, But when my name was lifted up, the storm Brake on the mountain and I cared not for it. Right well know I that fame is half disfame.

My life has crept so long on a broken wing Through cells of madness, haunts of horror and fear, That I come to be grateful at last for a little thing.

Trust me not at all, or all in all.