Tis Ever Common That Men Are Merriest

Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent Made Glorious Summer By This Sun Of York; And All The Clouds That Lour'd Upon Our House In The Deep Bosom Of The Ocean Buried.

The Trust I Have Is In Mine Innocence, And Therefore Am I Bold And Resolute.

Life Is As Tedious As Twice-told Tale, Vexing The Dull Ear Of A Drowsy Man.

What The Great Ones Do, The Less Will Prattle Of

How My Achievements Mock Me!