All Live To Die, And Rise To

O, Thou Art Fairer Than The Evening Air Clad In The Beauty Of A Thousand Stars.

All Places Are Alike, And Every Earth Is Fit For Burial.

Accurst Be He That First Invented War.

I Am Envy, Begotten Of A Chimney-sweeper And An Oyster-wife. I Cannot Read, And Therefore Wish All Books Were Burnt; I Am Lean With Seeing Others Eat - O That There Would Come A Famine Through All The World, That All Might Die, And I Live Alone; Then Thou Should'st See How Fat I Would Be! But Must Thou Sit And I Stand? Come Down, With A Vengeance!

Nature That Framed Us Of Four Elements, Warring Within Our Breasts For Regiment, Doth Teach Us All To Have Aspiring Minds: Our Souls, Whose Faculties Can Comprehend The Wondrous Architecture Of The World, And Measure Every Wandering Planet's Course, Still Climbing After Knowledge Infinite, And Always Moving As The Restless Spheres, Wills Us To Wear Ourselves, And Never Rest, Until We Reach The Ripest Fruit Of All, That Perfect Bliss And Sole Felicity, The Sweet Fruition Of An Earthly Crown.