An Honest Man's Word Is As Good

I Know Well Enough That There Have Been Dogs So Loving That They Have Thrown Themselves Into The Same Grave With The Dead Bodies Of Their Masters.

My Heart Is Wax Molded As She Pleases, But Enduring As Marble To Retain.

Nay, What Is Worse, Perhaps Turn Poet, Which, They Say, Is An Infectious And Incurable Distemper.

I Had Rather Munch A Crust Of Brown Bread And An Onion In A Corner, Without Any More Ado, Or Ceremony, Than Feed Upon Turkey At Another Man's Table.

Riches Are Able To Solder Up Abundance Of Flaws.