I Know No Ways To

The Love That Follows Us Sometime Is Our Trouble, Which Still We Thank As Love.

To Weep Is To Make Less The Depth Of Grief.

Tis An Ill Cook That Cannot Lick His Own Fingers.

Here I And Sorrows Sit; Here Is My Throne, Bid Kings Come Bow To It.

Misery Acquaints A Man With Strange Bedfellows.