Appetite, a universal wolf.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot; Follow your spirit: and upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry! England and Saint George!

Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.

He was not so much brain as earwax

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.

And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods makes Heaven drowsy with the harmony.

There is nothing in the world so much like prayer as music is. ~William Shakespeare