Summer's Lease Hath All Too

Et Tu Brute! (you Too, Brutus!)

An Honest Man, Sir, Is Able To Speak For Himself, When A Knave Is Not.

Silence Is The Perfectest Herald Of Joy: I Were But Little Happy, If I Could Say How Much. Lady, As You Are Mine, I Am Yours: I Give Away Myself For You And Dote Upon The Exchange.

Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than It Is.

Listen To Many, Speak To A Few.