Thus With A Kiss I Die

Society Is No Comfort, To One Not Sociable.

This Is The Excellent Foppery Of The World, That, When We Are Sick In Fortune,--often The Surfeit Of Our Own Behavior,--we Make Guilty Of Our Disasters The Sun, The Moon, And The Stars: As If We Were Villains By Necessity; Fools By Heavenly Compulsion; Knaves, Thieves, And Treachers, By Spherical Predominance; Drunkards, Liars, And Adulterers, By An Enforced Obedience Of Planetary Influence; And All That We Are Evil In, By A Divine Thrusting On: An Admirable Evasion Of Whoremaster Man, To Lay His Goatish Disposition To The Charge Of A Star.

The Better Part Of Valor Is Discretion, In The Which Better Part I Have Saved My Life.

What A Terrible Era In Which Idiots Govern The Blind.

Heaven Give You Many, Many Merry Days.