Fire That's Closest Kept Burns

Give Thy Thoughts No Tongue, Nor Any Unproportioned Thought His Act. Be Thou Familiar But By No Means Vulgar.

For My Grief's So Great That No Supporter But The Huge Firm Earth Can Hold It Up: Here I And Sorrows Sit; Here Is My Throne, Bid Kings Come Bow To It. (constance, From King John, Act Iii, Scene 1)

Every Thing That Grows / Holds In Perfection But A Little Moment.

To Think But Nobly Of My Grandmother: Good Wombs Have Borne Bad Sons.

In Nature's Infinite Book Of Secrecy A Little I Can Read.