Away, You Mouldy Rogue, Away!

Good Company, Good Wine, Good Welcome, Can Make Good People.

Nothing Comes From Doing Nothing.

O, Speak Again, Bright Angel! For Thou Art As Glorious To This Night, Being O'er My Head As Is A Winged Messenger Of Heaven

But As The Unthought-on Accident Is Guilty To What We Wildly Do, So We Profess Ourselves To Be The Slaves Of Chance, And Flies Of Every Wind That Blows.

Things Sweet To Taste Prove In Digestion Sour.