Words Are Grown So False, I Am

I Had Rather Live With Cheese And Garlic In A Windmill.

It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes Away The Performance

Our Fancies Are More Giddy And Unfirm, More Longing, Wavering, Sooner Lost And Won, Than Women's Are.

Cowards Die Many Times Before Their Deaths; The Valiant Never Taste Of Death But Once.

It Is The Mind That Makes The Body Rich; And As The Sun Breaks Through The Darkest Clouds, So Honor Peereth In The Meanest Habit.