Each Substance Of A Grief Has Twenty

But To My Mind, Though I Am Native Here, And To The Manner Born, It Is A Custom, More Honored In The Breach Than The Observance.

Crowns Have Their Compass-length Of Days Their Date- Triumphs Their Tomb-felicity, Her Fate- Of Nought But Earth Can Earth Make Us Partaker, But Knowledge Makes A King Most Like His Maker.

I Have Heard Of Some Kind Of Men That Put Quarrels Purposely On Others, To Taste Their Valor.

Cursed Be He That Moves My Bones.

I Have Been Studying How I May Compare This Prison Where I Live Unto The World; And, For Because The World Is Populous, And Here Is Not A Creature But Myself, I Cannot Do It. Yet I'll Hammer It Out.