The Eye Sees All, But The Mind

A Glooming Peace This Morning With It Brings; The Sun, For Sorrow, Will Not Show His Head: Go Hence, To Have More Talk Of These Sad Things; Some Shall Be Pardon'd, And Some Punished: For Never Was A Story Of More Woe Than This Of Juliet And Her Romeo.

Reputation Is An Idle And Most False Imposition; Oft Got Without Merit, And Lost Without Deserving.

If It Will Feed Nothing Else, It Will Feed My Revenge.

Thou Art Thy Mother's Glass, And She In Thee Calls Back The Lovely April Of Her Prime...

For Sorrow Ends Not, When It Seemeth Done.