Our Enemies Are Our Outward Consciences.

Preferred Three Hours Quicker Over One Moment Late.

Tis A Cruelty To Load A Fallen Man.

He Capers, He Dances, He Has Eyes Of Youth, He Writes Verses, He Speaks Holiday, He Smells April And May.

Hath Romeo Slain Himself? Say Thou But Ay, And That Bare Vowel Ay Shall Poison More Than The Death-darting Eye Of Cockatrice. I Am Not I,if There Be Such An Ay, Or Those Eyes Shut,that Make Thee Answer Ay: If He Be Slain Say Ay,or If Not,no: Brief Sounds,determine Of My Weal Or Woe.

Time, That Takes Survey Of All The World, Must Have A Stop.