I had rather live with cheese and garlic in a windmill.

His life was gentle; and the elements So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, THIS WAS A MAN!

Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare, To digg the dust encloased heare! Blest be the man that spares thes stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.

It's easy for someone to joke about scars if they've never been cut.

These signs have marked me extraordinary, And all the courses of my life do show I am not in the roll of common men.

Sometimes when we are labeled, when we are branded our brand becomes our calling.

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven