Thou art a very ragged Wart.
I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, To die upon the hand I love so well.
I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.
Now I will believe that there are unicorns...
Absence from those we love is self from self – a deadly banishment.
There’s small choice in rotten apples.
O, when she’s angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce.
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
The soul is a terrible reality. It can be bought and sold and bartered away.
The prince of darkness is a gentleman!
All things are ready, if our mind be so.
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
If we are true to ourselves, we can not be false to anyone.
I am in blood Stepp’d in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o’er.
Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.
Who is it that can tell me who I am?
There is a tide in the affairs of men. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries.
Things without all remedy should be without regard: what’s done is done.
When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.