There Is A Tide In The Affairs

To Die, To Sleep - To Sleep, Perchance To Dream - Ay, There's The Rub, For In This Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come.

Things Past Redress Are Now With Me Past Care

A Lover's Eyes Will Gaze An Eagle Blind.

Love Looks Not With The Eyes, But With The Mind, And Therefore Is Winged Cupid Painted Blind.

That Strain Again! It Had A Dying Fall: O, It Came O'er My Ear Like The Sweet Sound That Breathes Upon A Bank Of Violets, Stealing And Giving Odour! Enough; No More: 'tis Not So Sweet As It Was Before.