The Weakest Kind Of Fruit Drops Earliest

Every Why Has A Wherefore.

Good Hamlet, Cast Thy Nighted Colour Off ... Do Not For Ever With Thy Vailed Lids Seek For Thy Noble Father In The Dust.

Society Is No Comfort, To One Not Sociable.

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

Time And The Hour Run Through The Roughest Day.