The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths.

And He Goes Through Life, His Mouth Open, And His Mind Closed.

Wisely, I Say, I Am A Bachelor.

True, I Talk Of Dreams, Which Are The Children Of An Idle Brain, Begot Of Nothing But Vain Fantasy, Which Is As Thin Of Substance As The Air, And More Inconstant Than The Wind, Who Woos Even Now The Frozen Bosom Of The North, And, Being Anger'd, Puffs Away From Thence, Turning His Side To The Dew-dropping South.

You Taught Me Language, And My Profit On't / Is, I Know How To Curse

You Take My House When You Do Take The Prop That Doth Sustain My House; You Take My Life When You Do Take The Means Whereby I Live.