I...kisss The Tender Inward Of

And Sleep, That Sometime Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye, Steal Me Awhile From Mine Own Company.

I Had Rather Be A Toad, And Live Upon The Vapor Of A Dungeon Than Keep A Corner In The Thing I Love For Others Uses.

Words Are Easy, Like The Wind; Faithful Friends Are Hard To Find.

To-morrow, And To-morrow, And To-morrow, Creeps In This Petty Pace From Day To Day, To The Last Syllable Of Recorded Time; And All Our Yesterdays Have Lighted Fools The Way To Dusty Death. Out, Out, Brief Candle! Life's But A Walking Shadow, A Poor Player, That Struts And Frets His Hour Upon The Stage, And Then Is Heard No More. It Is A Tale Told By An Idiot, Full Of Sound And Fury, Signifying Nothing.

Liberty Plucks Justice By The Nose; The Baby Beats The Nurse, And Quite Athwart Goes All Decorum.