Farewell, My Sister, Fare Thee Well. The

But Since The Affairs Of Men Rests Still Incertain, Let's Reason With The Worst That May Befall.

Our Rash Faults Make Trivial Price Of Serious Thing We Have, Not Knowing Them Until We Know Their Grave.

Short Summers Lightly Have A Forward Spring.

I Hate Ingratitude More In A Man Than Lying, Vainness, Babbling, Drunkenness, Or Any Taint Of Vice Whose Strong Corruption Inhabits Our Frail Blood".

Sycorax Has Grown Into A Hoop