There's Place And Means For Every Man

I Have Touched The Highest Point Of All My Greatness.

This Goodly Frame, The Earth, Seems To Me A Sterile Promontory.

Love Thrives Not In The Heart That Shadows Dreadeth

A Pox O’ Your Throat, You Bawling, Blasphemous, Incharitable Dog!

Be Merry, And Employ Your Chiefest Thoughts To Courtship And Such Fair Ostents Of Love As Shall Conveniently Become You There.