Conscience Is A Thousand Swords.

My Language! Heavens!i Am The Best Of Them That Speak This Speech. Were I But Where 'tis Spoken.

We May Outrun By Violent Swiftness And Lose By Over-running.

If All The Year Were Playing Holidays; To Sport Would Be As Tedious As To Work.

A Fusty Nut With No Kernel.

The Gray-eyed Morn Smiles On The Frowning Night, Checkering The Eastern Clouds With Streaks Of Light.