Nothing Comes From Doing Nothing.

Let Me Twine Mine Arms About That Body, Where Against My Grained Ash An Hundred Times Hath Broke And Scarr'd The Moon With Splinters: Here I Clip The Anvil Of My Sword, And Do Contest As Hotly And As Nobly With Thy Love As Ever In Ambitious Strength I Did Contend Against Thy Valour. Know Thou First, I Loved The Maid I Married; Never Man Sigh'd Truer Breath; But That I See Thee Here, Thou Noble Thing! More Dances My Rapt Heart Than When I First My Wedded Mistress Saw Bestride My Threshold.

Let Us Kill All Lawyers

Nature Hath Framed Strange Fellows In Her Time.

Fortune Is Merry, And In This Mood Will Give Us Anything.

Pray, Do Not Mock Me. I Am A Very Foolish Fond Old Man, Fourscore And Upward, Not An Hour More Nor Less; And, To Deal Plainly, I Fear I Am Not In My Perfect Mind.