Defer No Time, Delays Have Dangerous Ends.

And Thou, All-shaking Thunder, Strike Flat The Thick Rotundity O' The World! Crack Nature's Moulds, All Germens Spill At Once That Makes Ingrateful Man!

The Glowworm Shows The Matin To Be Near And Gins To Pale His Uneffectual Fire.

Hear Me Profess Sincerely: Had I A Dozen Sons, Each In My Love Alike, And None Less Dear Than Thine And My Good Marcius, I Had Rather Have Eleven Die Nobly For Their Country Than One Voluptuously Surfeit Out Of Action.

I Will Live In Thy Heart, Die In Thy Lap, And Be Buried In Thy Eyes—and Moreover, I Will Go With Thee To Thy Uncle’s.

Spirits Are Not Finely Touched But To Fine Issues.