Women's Love Is For Their

Stronger Than Lover's Love Is Lover's Hate. Incurable, In Each, The Wounds They Make.

For The Good, When Praised, Feel Something Of Disgust, If To Excess Commended.

Had I Succeeded Well, I Had Been Reckoned Amongst The Wise; Our Minds Are So Disposed To Judge From The Event.

Song Brings Of Itself A Cheerfulness That Wakes The Heart Of Joy.

The Best Of Seers Is He Who Guesses Well.