I Hold My Peace, Sir? No; No,

The Man That Hath No Music In Himself

A Gentleman That Loves To Hear Himself Talk, Will Speak More In A Minute Than He Will Stand To In A Month.

Why Then, O Brawling Love! O Loving Hate! O Any Thing, Of Nothing First Create! O Heavy Lightness, Serious Vanity, Misshapen Chaos Of Well-seeming Forms, Feather Of Lead, Bright Smoke, Cold Fire, Sick Health, Still-waking Sleep, That Is Not What It Is! This Love Feel I, That Feel No Love In This.

To Fear The Worst Oft Cures The Worst.

Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than It Is.