O, My Offence Is Rank, It Smells

O' What May Man Within Him Hide, Though Angel On The Outward Side!

A Merry Heart Goes All The Way, - A Sad One Tires Inan Hour.

Even As One Heat Another Heat Expels, Or As One Nail By Strength Drives Out Another, So The Remembrance Of My Former Love Is By A Newer Object Quite Forgotten.

Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty.

Men At Some Time Are Masters Of Their Fates. The Fault, Dear Brutus, Is Not In Our Stars, But In Ourselves, That We Are Underlings.