May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode! But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves. William Shakespeare
All the world is a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and entrances; Each man in his time plays many parts. See image William Shakespeare
How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. See image William Shakespeare