What Our Contempts Do Often Hurl From

I Understand A Fury In Your Words But Not Your Words.

Mean And Mighty, Rotting Together, Have One Dust.

Four Days Will Quickly Steep Themselves In Nights; Four Nights Will Quickly Dream Away The Time; And Then The Moon, Like To A Silver Bow New Bent In Heaven, Shall Behold The Night Of Our Solemnities.

Truth Needs No Color; Beauty, No Pencil.

True Apothecary Thy Drugs Art Quick