Do You Bite Your Thumb At Us,

I Have Heard Of Your Paintings Too, Well Enough; God Has Given You One Face, And You Make Yourselves Another.

Strikes Deeper, Grows With More Pernicious Root.

Take Her Away; For She Hath Lived Too Long, To Fill The World With Vicious Qualities.

Polonius: What Do You Read, My Lord? Hamlet: Words, Words, Words.

Their Lips Were Four Red Roses On A Stalk.