Take Pains. Be Perfect.

This Day's Black Fate On More Days Doth Depend; This But Begins The Woe, Others Must End.

Not That I Loved Caesar Less, But That I Loved Rome More.

Tis Better Using France Than Trusting France; Let Us Be Back'd With God, And With The Seas, Which He Hath Given For Fence Impregnable, And With Their Helps Only Defend Ourselves; In Them, And In Ourselves, Our Safety Lies.

I Wish My Horse Had The Speed Of Your Tongue.

But That The Dread Of Something After Death, The Undiscover'd Country From Whose Bourn No Traveller Returns, Puzzles The Will And Makes Us Rather Bear Those Ills We Have Than Fly To Others That We Know Not Of?