They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.

Love bears it out even to the edge of doom.

The setting sun, and the music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in rememberance more than long things past.

Perseverance... keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail in monumental mockery.

Appetite, a universal wolf.

And makes me poor indeed.

I have lov'd her ever since I saw her; and still I see her beautiful