Hate Is A Bottomless Cup;

I Think It Makes Small Difference To The Dead, If They Are Buried In The Tokens Of Luxury. All That Is An Empty Glorification Left For Those Who Live.

'twas But My Tongue, 'twas Not My Soul That Swore.

There Seems To Be Some Pleasure For Women In Sick Talk Of One Another.

The Little Done Doth Vanish To The Mind Which Forward Sees How Much Remains To Do.

Life Is Short, Yet Sweet.