It Is War's Prize To

To Be In Love- Where Scorn Is Bought With Groans, Coy Looks With Heart-sore Sighs, One Fading Moment's Mirth With Twenty Watchful, Weary, Tedious Nights; If Haply Won, Perhaps A Hapless Gain; If Lost, Why Then A Grievous Labour Won; However, But A Folly Bought With Wit, Or Else A Wit By Folly Vanquished.

Your Praises Will Become Your Wages.

Loathsome Canker Lives In Sweetest Bud.

Let's Meet As Little As We Can

What Is Past Is Prologue.