One Pain Is Cured By

Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent Made Glorious Summer By This Sun Of York; And All The Clouds That Lour'd Upon Our House In The Deep Bosom Of The Ocean Buried.

I Do Not Seek To Quench Your Love's Hot Fire, But Qualify The Fire's Extreme Rage, Lest It Should Burn Above The Bounds Of Reason.

Things Done Well And With A Care, Exempt Themselves From Fear.

Listen To Many, Speak To A Few.

A Good Wit Will Make Use Of Anything.