War Is No Strife To The Dark

When Great Leaves Fall, The Winter Is At Hand.

The Past Is Prologue.

There's Not A Note Of Mine That's Worth The Noting.

The Poor World Is Almost Six Thousand Years Old, And In All This Time There Was Not Any Man Died In His Own Person, Videlicet, In A Love-cause.

Methinks Sometimes I Have No More Wit Than A Christian Or An Ordinary Man Has; But I Am A Great Eater Of Beef, And I Believe That Does Harm To My Wit.