The Object Of Art Is To Give

The Little Dogs And All, Tray, Blanch, And Sweetheart-see, They Bark At Me.

The Very Substance Of The Ambitious Is Merely The Shadow Of A Dream.

I Will Instruct My Sorrows To Be Proud; For Grief Is Proud, And Makes His Owner Stoop.

Romeo To Balthasar But If Thou, Jealous, Dost Return To Pry In What I Further Shall Intend To Do, By Heaven, I Will Tear Thee Joint By Joint And Strew This Hungry Churchyard With Thy Limbs: The Time And My Intents Are Savage-wild, More Fierce And More Inexorable Far Than Empty Tigers Or The Roaring Sea.

And Thus I Clothe My Naked Villainy With Odd Old Ends Stol'n Out Of Holy Writ; And Seem A Saint, When Most I Play The Devil.