Memory, the warder of the brain.

Within the book and volume of my brain.

I would not put a thief in my mouth to steal my brains.

Like oneWho having into truth, by telling of it,Made such a sinner of his memory,To credit his own lie.

Not marble nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme,
But you shall shine more bright in these contents
Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn
And broils roots out the work of masonry,
Nor mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till judgement that yourself arise,
You in this, and dwell in lovers eyes.

The brain may devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps over a cold decree.