And All This Day An

Ambition Should Be Made Of Sterner Stuff.

Oh, That Way Madness Lies; Let Me Shun That.

O No, Thy Love Though Much, Is Not So Great, It Is My Love That Keeps Mine Eye Awake, Mine Own True Love That Doth My Rest Defeat, To Play The Watchman Ever For Thy Sake. For Thee Watch I, Whilst Thou Dost Wake Elsewhere, From Me Far Off, With Others All Too Near.

Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than It Is.

Our Enemies Are Our Outward Consciences.