I Am A Great Eater Of Beef,

Stars, Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light See My Black And Deep Desires.

The Breach Of Custom Is Breach Of All.

Is This A Dagger Which I See Before Me, The Handle Toward My Hand?

Against Self-slaughter There Is A Prohibition So Divine That Cravens My Weak Hand.

Men Should Be What They Seem; Or Those That Be Not, Would They Might Seem None!.