O Heaven! Were Man, But

Virtue That Transgresses Is But Patched With Sin; And Sin That Amends Is But Patched With Virtue.

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind Thou Art Not So Unkind, As Man's Ingratitude.

When Law Can Do No Right, Let It Be Lawful That Law Bar No Wrong.

We Make Guilty Of Our Disasters The Sun, The Moon, And The Stars; As If We Were Villians By Compulsion.

My Soul Is In The Sky.