Go, Bid The Soldiers Shoot.

I Profess Not Talking: Only This, Let Each Man Do His Best.

Love Sought Is Good, But Given Unsought, Is Better.

Life's But A Walking Shadow, A Poor Player, That Struts And Frets His Hour Upon The Stage, And Then Is Heard No More; It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing.

So Quick Bright Things Come To Confusion.​​​​​​

Time's The King Of Men; He's Both Their Parent, And He Is Their Grave, And Gives Them What He Will, Not What They Crave.