It Hurts Not The Tongue To Give

O Heresy In Fair, Fit For These Days, A Giving Hand, Though Foul, Shall Have Fair Praise.

By Heaven, I Love Thee Better Than Myself

The Native Hue Of Resolution Is Sicklied O'er With The Pale Cast Of Thought; And Enterprises Of Great Pitch And Moment, With This Regard, Their Currents Turn Awry, And Lose The Name Of Action.

This Is A Way To Kill A Wife With Kindness.

Death-counterfeiting Sleep.