This World To Me Is Like A

Yet Who Would Have Thought The Old Man To Have Had So Much Blood In Him? - Lady Macbeth

But, Soft! What Light Through Yonder Window Breaks? It Is The East, And Juliet Is The Sun. Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon, Who Is Already Sick And Pale With Grief, That Thou, Her Maid, Art Far More Fair Than She. Be Not Her Maid, Since She Is Envious; Her Vestal Livery Is But Sick And Green And None But Fools Do Wear It; Cast It Off. It Is My Lady, O, It Is My Love! Oh, That She Knew She Were!

Wishers Were Ever Fools.

Thyself Shall See The Act; For, As Thou Urgest Justice, Be Assured Thou Shalt Have Justice, More Than Thou Desir'st.

Cursed Be The Hand That Made These Fatal Holes.