Men Have Marble, Women Waxen, Minds.

Juliet Is The East And I Am The Sun.

Golden Lads And Girls All Must As Chimney Sweepers Come To Dust.

For Now They Kill Me With A Living Death.

Truth Needs No Color; Beauty, No Pencil.

Hamlet: Lady, Shall I Lie In Your Lap? Ophelia: No, My Lord. Hamlet: Did You Think I Meant Country Matters? Ophelia: I Think Nothing, My Lord. Hamlet: That's A Fair Thought To Lie Between Maids' Legs. Ophelia: What Is, My Lord? Hamlet: Nothing.