Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit.

The Hind That Would Be Mated By The Lion Must Die For Love.

No Stony Bulwark Can Resist The Love, And Love Dares What Anyone Can Love.

Love Denied Blights The Soul We Owe To God.

True, I Talk Of Dreams, Which Are The Children Of An Idle Brain, Begot Of Nothing But Vain Fantasy.

Rebellion In This Land Shall Lose His Sway, Meeting The Check Of Such Another Day.