Conscience Is A Thousand Swords.

His Jest Will Savour But Of Shallow Wit, When Thousands Weep, More Than Did Laugh At It.

Are You Up To Your Destiny?

Methinks I Am A Prophet New Inspired And Thus, Expiring, Do Foretell Of Him: His Rash Fierce Blaze Of Riot Cannot Last, For Violent Fires Soon Burn Out Themselves; Small Show'rs Last Long, But Sudden Storms Are Short; He Tires Betimes That Spurs Too Fast Betimes; With Eager Feeding Doth Choke The Feeder; Light Vanity, Insatiate Cormorant, Consuming Means, Soon Preys Upon Itself.

There Is A Law In Each Well-ordered Nation To Curb Those Raging Appetites That Are Most Disobedient And Refractory.

Love Is Too Young To Know What Conscience Is.