Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention.

He Hath A Heart As Sound As A Bell, And His Tongue Is The Clapper; For What His Heart Thinks His Tongue Speaks.

To Die, To Sleep - To Sleep, Perchance To Dream - Ay, There's The Rub, For In This Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come.

Now He'll Outstare The Lightning. To Be Furious Is To Be Frightened Out Of Fear.

Oh, God! I Have An Ill-divining Soul!

They Are Sick That Surfeit With Too Much, As They That Starve With Nothing.