To Do A Great Right Do A

Your Tale, Sir, Would Cure Deafness.

Sound Trumpets! Let Our Bloody Colours Wave! And Either Victory, Or Else A Grave.

Juliet Is The East And I Am The Sun.

Look, What A Horse Should Have He Did Not Lack, Save A Proud Rider On His Back.

Nor Stony Tower, Nor Walls Of Beaten Brass, Nor Airless Dungeon, Nor Strong Links Of Iron, Can Be Retentive To The Strength Of Spirit; But Life, Being Weary Of These Worldly Bars, Never Lacks Power To Dismiss Itself.