Glory Is Like A Circle In The

We Are Such Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of.

Yet Do I Fear Thy Nature; It Is Too Full O' The Milk Of Human Kindness To Catch The Nearest Way: Thou Wouldst Be Great; Art Not Without Ambition, But Without The Illness Should Attend It: What Thou Wouldst Highly, That Wouldst Thou Holily; Wouldst Not Play False, And Yet Wouldst Wrongly Win.

Nothing Is So Common As The Wish To Be Remarkable.(attributed To)

Let Men Say We Be Men Of Good Government, Being Governed, As The Sea Is, By Our Noble And Chaste Mistress The Moon, Under Whose Countenance We Steal.

I Must Be Cruel Only To Be Kind; Thus Bad Begins, And Worse Remains Behind.