A Knot You Are Of Damned Bloodsuckers.

Pleasure And Revenge Have Ears More Deaf Than Adders To The Voice Of Any True Decision.

Lives Like A Drunken Sailor On A Mast, Ready With Every Nod To Tumble Down Into The Fatal Bowels Of The Deep.

There Is A River In Macedon, And There Is Moreover A River In Monmouth. It Is Called Wye At Monmouth, But It Is Out Of My Prains What Is The Name Of The Other River; But 'tis All One, 'tis Alike As My Fingers Is To My Fingers, And There Is Salmons In Both.

For Sweetest Things Turn Sourest By Their Deeds; Lillies That Fester Smell Far Worse Than Weeds.

For My Part, If A Lie May Do Thee Grace, I'll Gild It With The Happiest Terms I Have.