Wisely, And Slow. They Stumble That Run

Death Makes No Conquest Of This Conqueror: For Now He Lives In Fame, Though Not In Life.

What Soilders Whey-face? The English For So Please You. Take Thy Face Hence.

You Wear Out A Good Wholesome Forenoon In Hearing A Cause Between An Orange Wife And A Fosset-seller.

Who Could Refrain That Had A Heart To Love And In That Heart Courage To Make Love Known?

Is This A Dagger Which I See Before Me, The Handle Toward My Hand? Come, Let Me Clutch Thee. I Have Thee Not, And Yet I See Thee Still. Art Thou Not, Fatal Vision, Sensible To Feeling As To Sight? Or Art Thou But A Dagger Of The Mind, A False Creation, Proceeding From The Heat-oppressed Brain?