What Cannot Be Saved When Fate Takes,

Know More Than Other. Work More Than Other. Expect Less Than Other

Never Durst Poet Touch A Pen To Write Until His Ink Were Temper'd With Love's Sighs.

Better Conquest Never Canst Thou Make Than Arm Thy Constant And Thy Nobler Parts Against Giddy, Loose Suggestions.

They Have Been Grand-jurymen Since Before Noah Was A Sailor

The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose, And On Old Hiems' Thin And Icy Crown An Odorous Chaplet Of Sweet Summer Buds Is, As In Mockery, Set. The Spring, The Summer, The Childing Autumn, Angry Winter, Change Their Wonted Liveries, And The Mazed World, By Their Increase, Now Knows Not Which Is Which.