Bad Is The Trade That Must Play

Learning Is But An Adjunct To Ourself, And Where We Are Our Learning Likewise Is.

He That Filches From Me My Good Name Robs Me Of That Which Enriches Him And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

You Common Cry Of Curs! Whose Breath I Hate As Reek O' The Rotten Fens, Whose Loves I Prize As The Dead Carcasses Of Unburied Men That Do Corrupt My Air, I Banish You; And Here Remain With Your Uncertainty!

A Grandma's Name Is Little Less In Love Than Is The Doting Title Of A Mother.

O Shame, Where Is Thy Blush?