Greatness Knows Itself.

Juliet Is The East And I Am The Sun.

Lechery, Lechery; Still, Wars And Lechery: Nothing Else Holds Fashion.

Oh God! That One Might Read The Book Of Fate, And See The Revolution Of The Times Make Mountains Level, And The Continent, Weary Of Solid Firmness, Melt Itself Into The Sea.

Master, Go On, And I Will Follow Thee To The Last Gasp With Truth And Loyalty.

Better Conquest Never Canst Thou Make Than Arm Thy Constant And Thy Nobler Parts Against Giddy, Loose Suggestions.