Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore Art Thou Romeo?

Her Passions Are Made Of Nothing But The Finest Part Of Pure Love

A Jest's Prosperity Lies In The Ear Of Him That Hears It, Never In The Tongue Of Him That Makes It.

Love That Well Which Thou Must Leave Ere Long.

Each Substance Of A Grief Has Twenty Shadows.

Your Cause Of Sorrow Must Not Be Measured By His Worth, For Then It Hath No End.