We Must Be Brief When Traitors Brave

If I Must Die, I Will Encounter Darkness As A Bride, And Hug It In Mine Arms.

For Sweetest Things Turn Sourest By Their Deeds; Lillies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than Weeds.

Cry "havoc!" And Let Loose The Dogs Of War, That This Foul Deed Shall Smell Above The Earth With Carrion Men, Groaning For Burial.

Experience Is By Industry Achieved, And Perfected By The Swift Course Of Time.

To Wilful Men, The Injuries That They Themselves Procure Must Be Their Schoolmasters.