We Were Not Born To Sue, But

Where Every Something, Being Blent Together Turns To A Wild Of Nothing.

Come My Spade. There Is No Ancient Gentlemen But Gardeners, Ditchers, And Grave-makers; They Hold Up Adam's Profession.

There Is Nothing Serious In Mortality

Friendship Is Constant In All Other Things, Save In The Office And Affairs Of Love.

What Is Honour? A Word. What Is In That Word Honour? What Is That Honour? Air. A Trim Reckoning! Who Hath It? He That Died O' Wednesday. Doth He Feel It? No. Doth He Hear It? No.