I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. And let my liver rather heat with wine, than my heart cool with mortifying groans.

Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever

Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.

A harmless necessary cat.

Ambition, the soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, than gain which darkens him.

The voice of parents is the voice of gods, for to their children they are heaven's lieutenants.