To Be, Or Not To Be, That

The Setting Sun, And The Music At The Close, As The Last Taste Of Sweets, Is Sweetest Last, Writ In Rememberance More Than Long Things Past.

I Am Sure, Though You Can Guess What Temperance Should Be, You Know Not What It Is.

O Coward Conscience, How Dost Thou Afflict Me!

An Honest Tale Speeds Best Being Plainly Told.

This Is The Very Coinage Of Your Brain: This Bodiless Creation Ecstasy.