Et Tu Brute! (you Too, Brutus!)

Present Mirth Hath Present Laughter. What's To Come Is Still Unsure.

The Curse Of Marriage That We Can Call These Delicate Creatures Ours And Not Their Appetites!

If There Be No Great Love In The Beginning, Yet Heaven May Decrease It Upon Better Acquaintance, When We Are Married And Have More Occasion To Know One Another: I Hope, Upon Familiarity Will Grow More Contempt.

The Fashion Of The World Is To Avoid Cost, And You Encounter It.

Farewell, A Long Farewell To All My Greatness! This Is The State Of Man: Today He Puts Forth The Tender Leaves Of Hope, Tomorrow Blossoms, And Bears His Blushing Honours Thick Upon Him: The Third Day Comes A Frost, A Killing Frost, And - When He Thinks, Good Easy Man, Full Surely His Greatness Is A-ripening - Nips His Root, And Then He Falls, As I Do.