Conscience Is A Thousand Swords.

O God, O God, How Weary, Stale, Flat, And Unprofitable Seem To Me All The Uses Of This World!

Conceal Me What I Am, And Be My Aid For Such Disguise As Haply Shall Become The Form Of My Intent.

Better Three Hours Too Soon, Than One Hour To Late.

What Made Me Love Thee? Let That Persuade Thee, There's Something Extraordinary In Thee

It Is Not Politic In The Commonwealth Of Nature To Preserve Virginity. Loss Of Virginity Is Rational Increase, And There Was Never Virgin Got Till Virginity Was First Lost. That You Were Made Of Is Metal To Make Virgins. Virginity, By Being Once Lost, May Be Ten Times Found: By Being Ever Kept, It Is Ever Lost. ’tis Too Cold A Companion: Away With ’t!