Every One In His Own House And

As Ill-luck Would Have It.

Every Man Is As God Made Him, Ay, And Often Worse.

A Knight Errant Who Turns Mad For A Reason Deserves Neither Merit Nor Thanks. The Thing Is To Do It Without Cause

But My Thoughts Ran A Wool-gathering; And I Did Like The Countryman, Who Looked For His Ass While He Was Mounted On His Back.

Love And War Are The Same Thing, And Stratagems And Policy Are As Allowable In The One As In The Other.