He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion.

How long a time lies in one little word?

Greatness knows itself.

Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.

As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.

And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.

What is the city but the people?