Nothing In His Life Became

A Great Cause Of The Night Is Lack Of The Sun.

Abandon All Remorse; On Horror's Head Horrors Accumulate.

You Know That I Do Fawn On Men, And Hug Them Hard, And After Scandal Them.

Let Not Our Babbling Dreams Affright Our Souls; Conscience Is But A Work That Cowards Use, Devised At First To Keep The Strong In Awe: Our Strong Arms Be Our Conscience, Swords Our Law!

In Time The Savage Bull Doth Bear The Yoke.