True Hope Is Swift, And Flies With

Love`s Reason`s Without Reason

Is This A Dagger Which I See Before Me, The Handle Toward My Hand?

Every Inordinate Cup Is Unbless'd, And The Ingredient Is A Devil.

Thou Seest We Are Not All Alone Unhappy: This Wide And Universal Theatre Presents More Woeful Pageants Than The Scene Wherein We Play In.

I Am Not Only Witty In Myself, But The Cause That Wit Is In Other Men.