That Affable Familiar Ghost Which Nightly Gulls

Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None: Be Able For Thine Enemy Rather In Power Than Use; And Keep Thy Friend Under Thy Own Life's Key: Be Check'd For Silence, But Never Tax'd For Speech.

I Almost Die For Food, And Let Me Have It!

O Shame, Where Is Thy Blush?

Care Is No Cure, But Rather Corrosive, For Things That Are Not To Be Remedied.

O! She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright It Seems She Hangs Upon The Cheek Of Night Like A Rich Jewel In An Ethiop's Ear; Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear. - Romeo -