Little fly, thy summer's play My thoughtless hand has brushed away. Am not I a fly like thee? Or art not thou a man like me? For I dance and drink and sing, Till some blind hand shall brush my wing!

Some will say, Is not God alone the Prolific? I answer, God only Acts & Is, in existing beings or Men.

If you trap the moment before it's ripe, The tears of repentence you'll certainly wipe; But if once you let the ripe moment go You can never wipe off the tears of woe.

He who makes his law a curse, by his own law shall surely die.

Let the men do their duty & the women will be such wonders; the female life lives from the light of the male: see a man's female dependants, you know the man.

If a thing loves, it is infinite.

For all eternity, I forgive you and you forgive me.