Let None Presume To Wear An Undeserved

Do You Bite Your Thumb At Us, Sir?

Thou Know'st 'tis Common; All That Lives Must Die, Passing Through Nature To Eternity.

This Is A Gift That I Have, Simple, Simple; A Foolish Extravagant Spirit Full Of Forms, Figures, Shapes, Objects, Ideas, Apprehensions, Motions, Revolutions; These Are Begot In The Ventricle Of Memory, Nourished In The Womb Of Pia Mater, And Delivered Upon The Mellowing Of Occasion.

You Have Lost No Reputation At All, Unless You Repute Yourself Such A Loser.

We Must Love Men, Ere To Us They Will Seem Worthy Of Our Love.