I Hate The Murderer, Love Him Murdered.

O,speak To Me No More;these Words Like Daggers Enter My Ears.(a Fancy Way Of Saying Shut Up!)" — William Shakespeare "hamlet

O, Here Will I Set Up My Everlasting Rest And Shake The Yoke Of Inauspicious Stars From The World-wearied Flesh

Oh, She Doth Teach The Torches To Burn Bright! It Seems She Hangs Upon The Cheek Of Night Like A Rich Jewel In An Ethiope’s Ear, Beauty Too Rich For Use, For Earth Too Dear. So Shows A Snowy Dove Trooping With Crows As Yonder Lady O'er Her Fellows Shows. The Measure Done, I’ll Watch Her Place Of Stand, And, Touching Hers, Make Blessèd My Rude Hand. Did My Heart Love Till Now? Forswear It, Sight! For I Ne'er Saw True Beauty Till This Night.

All Surfeit Is The Father Of Much Fast.

All Things Are Ready, If Our Mind Be So.