What, With My Tongue In Your Tail?

Faults That Are Rich Are Fair.

To Be, Or Not To Be, That Is The Question: Whether 'tis Nobler In The Mind To Suffer The Slings And Arrows Of Outrageous Fortune, Or To Take Arms Against A Sea Of Troubles, And By Opposing End Them: To Die, To Sleep No More; And By A Sleep, To Say We End The Heart-ache, And The Thousand Natural Shocks That Flesh Is Heir To? 'tis A Consummation Devoutly To Be Wished. To Die To Sleep, To Sleep, Perchance To Dream; Aye, There's The Rub.

Et Tu Brute! (you Too, Brutus!)

It Is Not Politic In The Commonwealth Of Nature To Preserve Virginity. Loss Of Virginity Is Rational Increase, And There Was Never Virgin Got Till Virginity Was First Lost. That You Were Made Of Is Metal To Make Virgins. Virginity, By Being Once Lost, May Be Ten Times Found: By Being Ever Kept, It Is Ever Lost. ’tis Too Cold A Companion: Away With ’t!

Nothing Can Seem Foul To Those Who Win.