Let Me Not To The Marriage Of

Tis In Ourselves That We Are Thus Or Thus. Our Bodies Are Our Gardens, To The Which Our Wills Are Gardeners: So That If We Will Plant Nettles, Or Sow Lettuce, Set Hyssop And Weed Up Tine, Supply It With One Gender Of Herbs, Or Distract It With Many, Either To Have It Sterile With Idleness, Or Manured With Industry, Why, The Power And Corrigible Authority Of This Lies In Our Wills.

Mind Your Speech A Little Lest You Should Mar Your Fortunes.

You Speak An Infinite Deal Of Nothing.

Gnawing With My Teeth My Bonds In Sunder, I Gain'd My Freedom.

If I Must Die, I Will Encounter Darkness As A Bride, And Hug It In Mine Arms.