Foul Whisperings Are Abroad

Against My Will I Am Sent To Bid You Come In To Dinner. Benedick Fair Beatrice, I Thank You For Your Pains. Beatrice I Took No More Pains For Those Thanks Than You Take Pains To Thank Me: If It Had Been Painful, I Would Not Have Come. Benedick You Take Pleasure Then In The Message? Beatrice Yea, Just So Much As You May Take Upon A Knife's Point ... You Have No Stomach, Signior: Fare You Well. Exit Benedick Ha! 'against My Will I Am Sent To Bid You Come In To Dinner;' There's A Double Meaning In That... (much Ado About Nothing)

You Know Who You Are, But Know Not Who You Could Be.

Thanks, Sir; All The Rest Is Mute.

For You And I Are Past Our Dancing Days.

Ideas Are The Very Coinage Of Your Brain.