Beware The Ides Of March.

Not An Angel Of The Air, Bird Melodious Or Bird Fair, Be Absent Hence!

I Do Beseech You- Though I Perchance Am Vicious In My Guess , That Your Wisdom Yet From One That So Imperfectly Conjects Would Take No Notice, Nor Build Yourself A Trouble Out Of His Scattering And Unsure Observance.

New Customs, Though They Be Never So Ridiculous (nay, Let Em Be Unmanly), Yet Are Followed.

My Desolation Does Begin To Make A Better Life.

Look On Beauty, And You Shall See 'tis Purchased By The Weight.