Don't Trust The Person Who Has Broken

... By Indirections Find Directions Out.

You Are Not Worth The Dust Which The Rude Wind Blows In Your Face.

For God's Sake, Let Us Sit Upon The Ground, And Tell Sad Stories Of The Death Of Kings... All Murdered; For Within The Hollow Crown That Rounds The Mortal Temples Of A King, Keeps Death His Court... And With A Little Pin Bores Through His Castle Wall, And Farewell King!

Heaven Give You Many, Many Merry Days.

Let Me Be Boiled To Death With Melancholy.