Death, As The Psalmist Saith, Is Certain

Making Night Hideous.

Like The Lily That Once Was Mistress Of The Field And Flourished, I'll Hang My Head And Perish.

Thou Slave, Thou Wretch, Thou Coward! Thou Little Valiant, Great In Villainy! Thou Ever Strong Upon The Stronger Side! Thou Fortune's Champion, That Dost Never Fight But Where Her Humorous Ladyship Is By To Teach Thee Safety.

They Were Devils Incarnate.

Love All. Trust A Few. Do Wrong To None. This Above All: To Thine Own Self Be True. No Legacy Is So Rich As Honesty. Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit