O, While You Live, Tell Truth, And

Now 'tis Spring, And Weeds Are Shallow-rooted; Suffer Them Now And They'll O'ergrow The Garden.

This Thing Of Darkness I Acknowlege Mine. There Is Nothing More Confining Than The Prison We Don't Know We Are In.

There Live Not Three Good Men Unhanged In England; And One Of Them Is Fat And Grows Old.

A Lean Cheek; Which You Have Not: A Blue Eye, And Sunken; Which You Have Not: An Unquestionable Spirit; Which You Have Not: A Beard Neglected; Which You Have Not: — But I Pardon You For That; For, Simply, Your Having1 In Beard Is A Younger Brother's Revenue: — Then Your Hose Should Be Ungarter'd, Your Bonnet Unhanded, Your Sleeve Unbuttoned, Your Shoe Untied, And Every Thing About You Demonstrating A Careless Desolation.

Boldness Be My Friend.