Quote: What Angel Wakes Me From My

Greatness, Once Fallen Out With Fortune, Must Fall Out With Men Too.

As Many Arrows, Loosed Several Ways, Come To One Mark...so Many A Thousand Actions, Once Afoot, End In One Purpose.

Thou Art A Boil, A Plague Sore, An Embossed Carbuncle In My Corrupted Blood.

Death-counterfeiting Sleep.

Love Goes Toward Love As Schoolboys From Their Books, But Love From Love, Toward School With Heavy Looks.