Life... Is A Paradise To What We

You Draw Me, You Hard-hearted Adamant; But Yet You Draw Not Iron, For My Heart Is True As Steel: Leave You Your Power To Draw, And I Shall Have No Power To Follow You.

For Brutus Is An Honourable Man; So Are They All, All Honourable Men.

Infirm Of Purpose! Give Me The Daggers: The Sleeping And The Dead Are But As Pictures: ‘tis The Eye Of Childhood That Fears A Painted Devil

When A Father Gives To His Son, Both Laugh; When A Son Gives To His Father, Both Cry.

Fair, Kind, And True, Have Often Lived Alone.