Ah, What A Sign It

How Oft The Sight Of Means To Do Ill Deeds Makes Ill Deeds Done!

The Sweetest Honey Is Loathsome In His Own Deliciousness.

For I Have Neither Wit, Nor Words, Nor Worth, Action, Nor Utterance, Nor The Power Of Speech, To Stir Men's Blood: I Only Speak Right On; I Tell You That Which You Yourselves Do Know.

I Had Rather Hear My Dog Bark At A Crow, Than A Man Swear He Loves Me.

Wisely, And Slow. They Stumble That Run Fast.