Wise Men Never Sit And Wail Their

This Royal Throne Of Kings, This Sceptered Isle, This Earth Of Majesty, This Seat Of Mars, This Other Eden, Demi-paradise, This Fortress Built By Nature For Herself Against Infection And The Hand Of War, This Happy Breed Of Men, This Little World, This Precious Stone Set In The Silver Sea, Which Serves It In The Office Of A Wall Or As A Moat Defensive To A House, Against The Envy Of Less Happier Lands,--this Blessed Plot, This Earth, This Realm, This England.

Love Runs Away From Those Chasing Her, And Those Who Run Away, She Throws Herself On His Neck.

I Do Profess To Be No Less Than I Seem; To Serve Him Truly That Will Put Me In Trust: To Love Him That Is Honest; To Converse With Him That Is Wise, And Says Little; To Fear Judgment; To Fight When I Cannot Choose; And To Eat No Fish.

Oft Have I Heard That Grief Softens The Mind And Makes It Fearful And Degenerate.

If Her Breath Were As Terrible As Her Terminations, There Were No Living Near Her, She Would Infect To The North Star!