If We Could Be Twice Young And

How Sweet To Remember The Trouble That Is Past.

Only A Madman Would Give Good For Evil

Alas, How Right The Ancient Saying Is: We, Who Are Old, Are Nothing Else But Noise And Shape. Like Mimicries Of Dreams We Go, And Have No Wits, Although We Think Us Wise.

When A Good Man Is Hurt, All Who Would Be Called Good Must Suffer With Him.

When Good Men Die Their Goodness Does Not Perish, But Lives Though They Are Gone. As For The Bad, All That Was Theirs Dies And Is Buried With Them.