Death Hath A Thousand Doors To Let

One Grain Of Incense With Devotion Offer'd 's Beyond All Perfumes Of Sabaean Spices.

Shall This Nectar Run Useless, Then, To Waste? Or ... These Lips, That Open Like The Morn, Breathing Perfumes, On Such As Dare Approach Them, Be Untouch'd? They Must--nay, 'tis In Vain To Make Resistance-- Be Often Kissed And Tasted.

If You Like Not Hanging, Drown Yourself; Take Some Course For Your Reputation.

My Dancing Days Are Past.

The Good Needs Fear No Law, It Is His Safety And The Bad Man's Awe.