Death Rock Me Asleep.

I Am Afeard There Are Few Die Well That Die In Battle, For How Can They Charitably Dispose Of Anything When Blood Is Their Argument?

Men Should Be What They Seem.

The Will Is Infinite And The Execution Confin'd, The Desire Is Boundless And The Act A Slave To Limit.

And Fearless Minds Climb Soonest Unto Crowns.

The Best Quarrels, In The Heat, Are Cursed By Those That Feel Their Sharpness.