Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep ove >>
I should be very willing to redress men wrongs, and rather check than >>
I am as comfortless as a pilgrim with peas in his shoes -- and as cold >>
Death is nature's way of saying, Your table's ready. >>
And all the winds go sighing, for sweet things dying. >>
Death is the liberator of him whom freedom cannot release, the physici >>
I have seen a thousand graves opened, and always perceived that whatever was gone, the teeth and hair remained of those who had died with them. Is not this odd? They go the very first things in youth and yet last the longest in the dust.