Stones Have Been Known To Move And

Of One That Lov'd Not Wisely But Too Well.

Thy Head Is As Full Of Quarrels As An Egg Is Full Of Meat, And Yet Thy Head Hath Been Beaten As Addle As An Egg For Quarrelling.

I Will Praise Any Man That Will Praise Me.

But Whate'er You Are That In This Desert Inaccessible, Under The Shade Of Melancholy Boughs, Lose And Neglect The Creeping Hours Of Time; If You Have Ever Looked On Better Days, If Ever Been Where Bells Knoll'd To Church, If Ever Sat At Any Good Man's Feast, If Ever From Your Eyelids Wiped A Tear, And Know What 'tis To Pity And Be Pitied, Let Gentleness My Strong Enforcement Be. . . .

A Fool Thinks Himself To Be Wise, But A Wise Man Knows Himself To Be A Fool.