They Lie Deadly That Tell You Have

By Jove, I Am Not Covetous For Gold, Nor Care I Who Doth Feed Upon My Cost; It Yearns Me Not If Me My Garments Wear; Such Outward Things Dwell Not In My Desires: But If It Be A Sin To Covet Honor, I Am The Most Offending Soul Alive.

Oft Expectation Fails, And Most Oft There Where Most It Promises; And Oft It Hits Where Hope Is Coldest, And Despair Most Fits.

Ideas Are The Very Coinage Of Your Brain.

A Dream Itself Is But A Shadow.

Let The Sap Of Reason Quench The Fire Of Passion.