We Are Such Stuff That Dreams Are

You Are Made Rather To Wonder At The Things You Hear Than To Work Any.

Death, As The Psalmist Saith, Is Certain To All, All Shall Die.

My Purpose Is, Indeed, A Horse Of That Color.

Why Should We Rise Because 'tis Light? Did We Lie Down Because T'was Night?

Be Like You Thought Our Love Would Last Too Long, If It Were Chain'd Together