O comfort-killing night, image of hell, Dim register and notary of shame, Black stage for tragedies and murders fell, Vast sin-concealing chaos, nurse of blame!
Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares.
Can I go forward when my heart is here?
Woe to that land that's governed by a child.
Silence is the perfectest herault of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.
There are occasions and causes, why and wherefore in all things.