The Sense Of Death Is Most In

I Have No Other But A Woman's Reason: I Think Him So, Because I Think Him So.

Olivia: What's A Drunken Man Like, Fool? Feste: Like A Drowned Man, A Fool, And A Madman: One Draught Above Heat Makes Him A Fool; The Second Mads Him; And A Third Drowns Him.

Music Can Minister To Minds Diseased, Pluck From The Memory A Rooted Sorrow, Raze Out The Written Troubles Of The Brain, And With Its Sweet Oblivious Antidote, Cleanse The Full Bosom Of All Perilous Stuff That Weighs Upon The Heart.

His Life Was Gentle; And The Elements So Mixed In Him, That Nature Might Stand Up And Say To All The World, This Was A Man!

A Man Cannot Make Him Laugh - But That's No Marvel; He Drinks No Wine.