I Beseech You, Wrest Once The Law

The Dullness Of The Fool Is The Whetstone Of The Wits.

I Hold The World But As The World, Gratiano; A Stage Where Every Man Must Play A Part, And Mine Is A Sad One.

Romeo To Balthasar But If Thou, Jealous, Dost Return To Pry In What I Further Shall Intend To Do, By Heaven, I Will Tear Thee Joint By Joint And Strew This Hungry Churchyard With Thy Limbs: The Time And My Intents Are Savage-wild, More Fierce And More Inexorable Far Than Empty Tigers Or The Roaring Sea.

That Is Honor's Scorn Which Challenges Itself As Honor's Born And Is Not Like The Sire. Honors Thrive When Rather From Our Acts We Them Derive Than Our Foregoers.

There's Daggers In Men's Smiles.