Misery Makes Sport To Mock Itself.

Ever Note, Lucilius, When Love Begins To Sicken And Decay It Useth An Enforced Ceremony. There Are No Tricks In Plain And Simple Faith; But Hollow Men, Like Horses Hot At Hand, Make Gallant Show And Promise Of Their Mettle; But When They Should Endure The Bloody Spur, They Fall Their Crests, And Like Deceitful Jades Sink In The Trial.

We Cannot Conceive Of Matter Being Formed Of Nothing, Since Things Require A Seed To Start From... Therefore There Is Not Anything Which Returns To Nothing, But All Things Return Dissolved Into Their Elements.

Let Him Smell His Way To Dover!

How Much More Doth Beauty Beauteous Seem By That Sweet Ornament Which Truth Doth Give!

Thou Weigh'st Thy Words Before Thou Givest Them Breath.