Is Not The Truth The Truth?

When You Do Dance, I Wish You A Wave O' The Sea, That You Might Ever Do Nothing But That.

You Are Not Wood, You Are Not Stones, But Men.

No, Cassius; For The Eye Sees Not Itself, But By Reflection, By Some Other Things.

Now 'tis Spring, And Weeds Are Shallow-rooted; Suffer Them Now And They'll O'ergrow The Garden.

Lovers And Madmen Have Such Seething Brains Such Shaping Fantasies, That Apprehend More Than Cool Reason Ever Comprehends.