If I May Trust The Flattering Truth

Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit.

Be Not Afraid Of Greatness.

There's Rosemary, That's For Remembrance; Pray You, Love, Remember: And There Is Pansies, That's For Thoughts. There's Fennel For You, And Columbines: — There 's Rue For You; And Here's Some For Me: — We May Call It, Herb Of Grace O'sundays: — You May Wear Your Rue With A Difference. — There's A Daisy: — I Would Give You Some Violets; But They Withered All, When My Father Died: — They Say, He Made A Good End.

My Heart Laments That Virtue Cannot Live Out Of The Teeth Of Emulation.

To Be, Or Not To Be, That Is The Question.