I Say, Without Characters, Fame Lives Long.

The Web Of Our Life Is Of A Mingled Yarn, Good And Ill Together.

O Tiger's Heart Wrapped In A Woman's Hide!

Look, The World's Comforter, With Weary Gait, His Day's Hot Task Hath Ended In The West: The Owl, Night's Herald, Shrieks-'tis Very Late; The Sheep Are Gone To Fold, Birds To Their Nest; And Coal-black Clouds, That Shadow Heaven's Light, Do Summon Us To Part, And Bid Good Night.

Tear-falling Pity Dwells Not In This Eye.

O, Where Is Loyalty? If It Be Banished From The Frosty Head, Where Shall It Find A Harbor In The Earth?