For Truth Is Always Strange; Stranger Than

Such Is Your Cold Coquette, Who Can't Say "no," And Won't Say "yes," And Keeps You On And Off-ing On A Lee-shore, Till It Begins To Blow, Then Sees Your Heart Wreck'd, With An Inward Scoffing.

I Am So Changeable, Being Everything By Turns And Nothing Long - Such A Strange Melange Of Good And Evil.

Perhaps The Early Grave Which Men Weep Over May Be Meant To Save.

Oh, Christ! It Is A Goodly Sight To See What Heaven Hath Done For This Delicious Land!

A Timid Mind Is Apt To Mistake Every Scratch For A Mortal Wound.