A Good King Is A Public Servant.

He That Departs With His Own Honesty For Vulgar , Doth It Too Dearly Buy.

I Now Think, Love Is Rather Deaf, Than Blind, For Else It Could Not Be, That She, Whom I Adore So Much, Should So Slight Me, And Cast My Love Behind.

Nothing Is A Courtesy Unless It Be Meant Us, And That Friendly And Lovingly. We Owe No Thanks To Rivers That They Carry Our Boats, Or Winds That They Be Favoring And Fill Our Sails, Or Meats That They Be Nourishing; For These Are What They Are Necessarily. Horses Carry Us, Trees Shade Us; But They Know It Not.

I Remember, The Players Have Often Mentioned It As An Honour To Shakespeare, That In His Writing (whatsoever He Penned) He Never Plotted Out A Line. My Answer Hath Been, Would He Had Blotted A Thousand.

Confound These Ancestors... They've Stolen Our Best Ideas!