Bondage Is Hoarse, And May Not Speak

My Endeavors Have Ever Come Too Short Of My Desires. Yet Filed With My Abilities.

Every Man Has A Bag Hanging Before Him, In Which He Puts His Neighbour's Faults, And Another Behind Him In Which He Stows His Own.

I Go, I Go, Look How I Go, Swifter Than An Arrow From A Bow

We Few. We Happy Few. We Band Of Brothers, For He Today That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother.

Great Griefs Medicine The Less.