The Due Of Honor In No Point

Of All The Flowers, Me Thinks A Rose Is Best.

I Drink To The General Joy O’ The Whole Table." Macbeth

A Young Woman In Love Always Looks Like Patience On A Monument Smiling At Grief

So Weary With Disasters, Tugg'd With Fortune, That I Would Set My Life On Any Chance, To Mend, Or Be Rid On't.

We Are Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On; And Our Little Life Is Rounded With A Sleep.