Live How We Can, Yet Die We

It Provokes The Desire But It Takes Away The Performance. Therefore Much Drink May Be Said To Be An Equivocator With Lechery: It Makes Him And It Mars Him; It Sets Him On And It Takes Him Off.

Her Passions Are Made Of Nothing But The Finest Part Of Pure Love

There Is No Terror, Cassius, In Your Threats, For I Am Armed So Strong In Honesty That They Pass By Me As The Idle Wind

But Love That Comes Too Late, Like A Remorseful Pardon Slowly Carried, To The Great Sender Turns A Sour Offense, Crying, 'that's Good That's Gone.

Knit Your Hearts With An Unslipping Knot.