The Love That Follows Us Sometime Is

Unless Hours Were Cups Of Sack, And Minutes Capons, And Clocks The Tongues Of Bawds, And Dials The Signs Of Leaping-houses, And The Blessed Sun Himself A Fair Hot Wench In Flame-colored Taffeta, I See No Reason Why Thou Shouldst Be So Superfluous To Demand The Time Of The Day.

Shall I Not Take Mine Ease In Mine Inn But I Shall Have My Pocket Picked?

We Were Not Born To Sue, But To Command.

Death Is A Fearful Thing.

This Liberty Is All That I Request.