Who Can Control His Fate?

Live How We Can, Yet Die We Must.

The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing, And Is Not Careful What They Mean Thereby, Knowing That With The Shadow Of His Wings He Can At Pleasure Stint Their Melody: Even So Mayest Thou The Giddy Men Of Rome.

This We Prescribe, Though No Physician; Deep Malice Makes Too Deep Incision; Forget, Forgive; Conclude And Be Agreed; Our Doctors Say This Is No Month To Bleed.

Yet Who Would Have Thought The Old Man To Have Had So Much Blood In Him? - Lady Macbeth

Base Men Being In Love Have Then A Nobility In Their Natures More Than Is Native To Them.