Thus May Poor Fools Belive False Teachers.

Romeo, Romeo, Wherefore Art Thou Romeo?

You Have But Mistook Me All The While... I Live By Bread Like You, Taste Grief, Feel Want, Need Friends. Conditioned Thus How Can You Call Me King?

We Will All Laugh At Gilded Butterflies.

If Thou Dost Seek To Have What Thou Dost Hide, By Self-example Mayst Thou Be Denied.

I Have Almost Forgotten The Taste Of Fears: The Time Has Been, My Senses Would Have Cool’d To Hear A Night-shriek; And My Fell Of Hair Would At A Dismal Treatise Rouse And Stir As Life Were In’t: I Have Supt Full With Horrors; Direness, Familiar To My Slaughterous Thoughts, Cannot Once Start Me.