Base Is The Slave That

Thy Words, I Grant Are Bigger, For I Wear Not, My Dagger In My Mouth.

This Thou Perceivest, Which Makes Thy Love More Strong, To Love That Well Which Thou Must Leave Ere Long

There Is A Tide In The Affairs Of Men, Which Taken At The Flood, Leads On To Fortune. Omitted, All The Voyage Of Their Life Is Bound In Shallows And In Miseries. On Such A Full Sea Are We Now Afloat. And We Must Take The Current When It Serves, Or Lose Our Ventures.

Talking Isn't Doing. It Is A Kind Of Good Deed To Say Well; And Yet Words Are Not Deeds.

He Wears The Rose Of Youth Upon Him.