Strikes Deeper, Grows With More Pernicious Root.

Past All Shame, So Past All Truth.

O, Wonder! How Many Goodly Creatures Are There Here! How Beauteous Mankind Is! O Brave New World, That Has Such People In't!

Stars Hide Your Fires; Let Not Light See My Black And Deep Desires: The Eyes Wink At The Hand; Yet Let That Be Which The Eye Fears, When It Is Done, To See

I, Thus Neglecting Worldly Ends, All Dedicated To Closeness And The Bettering Of My Mind.

Alas, Poor Yorick! I Knew Him, Horatio: A Fellow Of Infinite Jest, Of Most Excellent Fancy: He Hath Borne Me On His Back A Thousand Times; And Now, How Abhorred In My Imagination It Is! My Gorge Rims At It. Here Hung Those Lips That I Have Kissed I Know Not How Oft. Where Be Your Gibes Now? Your Gambols? Your Songs? Your Flashes Of Merriment, That Were Wont To Set The Table On A Roar? Not One Now, To Mock Your Own Grinning? Quite Chap-fallen?