The jury passing on the prisoner's life may in the sworn twelve have a thief or two guiltier than him they try.

Beware the leader who bangs the drums of war in order to whip the citizenry into a patriotic fervor.

We make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villians by compulsion.

They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.

Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast!

I have supped full with horrors.