In Right And Service To Their Noble

He Capers, He Dances, He Has Eyes Of Youth, He Writes Verses, He Speaks Holiday, He Smells April And May.

There Is Nothing So Confining As The Prisons Of Our Own Perceptions.

Let Life Be Short, Else Shame Will Be Too Long.

Who Would Be So Mocked With Glory, Or To Live But In A Dream Of Friendship, To Have His Pomp And All What State Compounds But Only Painted, Like His Varnished Friends?

One Fire Burns Out Another's Burning, One Pain Is Lessen'd By Another's Anguish.