When We Are Born We Cry That

Doubting Things Go Ill Often Hurts More Than To Be Sure They Do; For Certainties Either Are Past Remedies, Or, Timely Knowing, The Remedy Then Born.

Coward Dogs Most Spend Their Mouths When What They Seem To Threaten Runs Far Before Them.

So Musical A Discord, Such Sweet Thunder.

O, Train Me Not, Sweet Mermaid, With Thy Note, To Drown Me In Thy Sister’s Flood Of Tears.

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? Thou Art More Lovely And More Temperate: Rough Winds Do Shake The Darling Buds Of May, And Summer's Lease Hath All Too Short A Date . . .