I Can Express No Kinder Sign Of

To Sue To Live, I Find I Seek To Die; And, Seeking Death, Find Life: Let It Come On.

Ay, When Fowls Have No Feathers And Fish Have No Fin.

Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit.

Tis Not A Year Or Two Shows Us A Man: They Are All But Stomachs, And We All But Food; They Eat Us Hungerly, And When They Are Full They Belch Us.

Good God, The Souls Of All My Tribe Defend From Jealousy!