The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths.

Death, That Hath Suck'd The Honey Of Thy Breath Hath Had No Power Yet Upon Thy Beauty.

Every Man Has His Fault, And Honesty Is His.

They Lie Deadly That Tell You Have Good Faces.

For 'tis The Sport To Have The Engineer Hoist With His Own Petar; And't Shall Go Hard But I Will Delve One Yard Below Their Mines And Blow Them At The Moon.

He That Is Truly Dedicated To War Hath No Self-love