Now Is The Winter Of Our Discontent.

See How She Leans Her Cheek Upon Her Hand. O, That I Were A Glove Upon That Hand That I Might Touch That Cheek!

Defer No Time, Delays Have Dangerous Ends.

The End Crowns All, And That Old Common Arbitrator, Time, Will One Day End It.

Every Offense Is Not A Hate At First.

We Will All Laugh At Gilded Butterflies.