For Who So Firm That Cannot Be

Time Be Thine, And Thy Best Graces Spend It At Thy Will.

The Poet's Eye, In A Fine Frenzy Rolling, Doth Glance From Heaven To Earth, From Earth To Heaven; And As Imagination Bodies Forth The Forms Of Things Unknown, The Poet's Pen Turns Them To Shape, And Gives To Airy Nothing A Local Habitation And A Name; Such Tricks Hath Strong Imagination.

To Be Once In Doubt Is Once To Be Resolved.

Fat Paunches Have Lean Pates, And Dainty Bits Make Rich The Ribs, But Backrout Quite The Wits.

Heat Not A Furnace For Your Foe So Hot That It Do Singe Yourself.