What's Done Is Done. The Joy Is

We Go To Gain A Little Patch Of Ground That Hath In It No Profit But The Name.

Send Danger From The East Unto The West, So Honor Cross It From The North To South.

The Gates Of Monarchs Are Arched So High That Giants May Jet Through And Keep Their Impious Turbans On Without Good Morrow To The Sun.

His Heart As Far From Fraud As Heaven From Earth.

My Soul Is In The Sky.