Women May Fall When There's No Strength

No, I Will Be The Pattern Of All Patience; I Will Say Nothing.

Our Revels Now Are Ended. These Our Actors, As I Foretold You, Were All Spirits And Are Melted Into Air, Into Thin Air: And, Like The Baseless Fabric Of This Vision, The Cloud-capp'd Towers, The Gorgeous Palaces, The Solemn Temples, The Great Globe Itself, Yea, All Which It Inherit, Shall Dissolve And, Like This Insubstantial Pageant Faded, Leave Not A Rack Behind. We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On, And Our Little Life Is Rounded With A Sleep.

Just Death, Kind Umpire Of Men's Miseries.

A Peace Is Of The Nature Of A Conquest; For Then Both Parties Nobly Are Subdued, And Neither Party Loser.

Words To Deeds Cold Breath Gives.