Indeed There's A Woundy Luck In Names.

Whosoever Loves Not Picture Is Injurious To Truth, And All The Wisdom Of Poetry. Picture Is The Invention Of Heaven, The Most Ancient And Most Akin To Nature. It Is Itself A Silent Work, And Always One And The Same Habit.

Our Whole Life Is Like A Play.

There Is No Greater Hell Than To Be A Prisoner Of Fear.

Sweet Swan Of Avon! What A Sight It Were To See Thee In Our Water Yet Appear.

In Small Proportions We Just Beauties See; And In Short Measures, Life May Perfect Be.