I Am A Feather For Each Wind

I'll Teach You Differences.

No Deeper Wrinkles Yet? Hath Sorrow Struck So Many Blows Upon This Face Of Mine And Made No Deeper Wounds?

What's Past And What's To Come Is Strew'd With Husks And Formless Ruin Of Oblivion.

The Very Instant I Saw You, Did My Heart Fly To Your Service; There Resides To Make Me Slave To It. ...mine Unworthiness, That Dare Not Offer What I Desire To Give, And Much Less Take What I Shall Die To Want.

Is It Not Strange, That Sheep's Guts Should Hale Souls Out Of Men's Bodies!