The People Are The City.

We Few. We Happy Few. We Band Of Brothers, For He Today That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother.

A Light Heart Lives Long.

If By Chance I Talk A Little Wild, Forgive Me; I Had It From My Father.

Aand In The End, Having My Freedom, Boast Of Nothing Else But That I Was A Journeyman To Grief?

Covering Discretion With A Coat Of Folly.