Well, God give them wisdom that have it; and those that are fools, let them use their talents.
Yield not thy neck To fortunes yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.
For grief is crowned with consolation.
I shall show the cinders of my spirits Through the ashes of my chance.
The eagle suffers little birds to sing.
Commit the oldest sins the newest kind of ways.