Shakespeare Never Had More Than 6 Lines

Here Lies Our Good Edmund, Whose Genius Was Such, We Scarcely Can Praise It Or Blame It Too Much; Who, Born For The Universe, Narrowed His Mind, And To Party Gave Up What Was Meant For Mankind.

Few Things Are Impossible To Diligence And Skill.

Life Is A Progress From Want To Want, Not From Enjoyment To Enjoyment.

Every Desire Is A Viper In The Bosom, Who While He Was Chill Was Harmless; But When Warmth Gave Him Strength, Exerted It In Poison.

I Do Not Much Wish Well To Discoveries, For I Am Always Afraid They Will End In Conquest And Robbery.