All Whom War, Dearth, Age,

A Bride, Before A "good-night" Could Be Said, Should Vanish From Her Clothes Into Her Bed, As Souls From Bodies Steal, And Are Not Spied. But Now She's Laid; What Though She Be? Yet There Are More Delays, For Where Is He? He Comes And Passeth Through Sphere After Sphere; First Her Sheets, Then Her Arms, Then Anywhere. Let Not This Day, Then, But This Night Be Thine; Thy Day Was But The Eve To This, O Valentine.

Lust-bred Diseases Rot Thee.

The Sun Must Not Set Upon Anger, Much Less Will I Let The Sun Set Upon The Anger Of God Towards Me.

As God Loves A Cheerful Giver, So He Also Loves A Cheerful Taker. Who Takes Hold Of His Gifts With A Glad Heart.

How Imperfect Is All Our Knowledge!