How Easy It Is For The Proper-false

It Is Great To Do That Thing That Ends All Other Deeds, Which Shackles Accidents And Bolts Up Change.

Light, Seeking Light, Doth Light Of Light Beguile

The Truest Poetry Is The Most Feigning.

My Father Names Me Autolycus, Who Being, As I Am, Littered Under Mercury, Was Likewise A Snapper-up Of Unconsidered Trifles.

Rumour Doth Double, Like The Voice And Echo, The Numbers Of The Feared.