Methought I Was Enamour'd Of An Ass.

The Coward Dies A Thousand Deaths, The Valiant, Only Once!

If I Profane With My Unworthiest Hand This Holy Shrine, The Gentle Fine Is This: My Lips, Two Blushing Pilgrims, Ready Stand To Smooth That Rough Touch With A Tender Kiss.

He Is The Half Part Of A Blessed Man, Left To Be Finished By Such As She; And She A Fair Divided Excellence, Whose Fullness Of Perfection Lies In Him.

I Pardon Him, As God Shall Pardon Me.

Good Luck Lies In Odd Numbers.