Patch Grief With Proverbs.

Are There No Stones In Heaven But What Serves For Thunder?

There's A Divinity That Shapes Our Ends, Rough-hew Them How We Will.

Know My Name Is Lost, By Treason's Tooth Bare-gnawn And Canker-bit; Yet Am I Noble As The Adversary I Come To Cope.

Give It An Understanding, But No Tongue.

On Your Eyelids Crown The God Of Sleep, Charming Your Blood With Pleasing Heaviness, Making Such Difference 'twixt Wake And Sleep As Is The Difference Betwixt Day And Night The Hour Before The Heavenly-harness'd Team Begins His Golden Progress In The East.