Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.

But the strong base and building of my love is as the very centre of the earth, drawing all things to it.

To persist in doing wrong extenuates not the wrong, but makes it much more heavy.

Make use of time, let not advantage slip.

This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions; these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion.

I will praise any man that will praise me.

Sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.