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.
As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport.
Thus I die. Thus, thus, thus. Now I am dead, Now I am fled, My soul is in the sky. Tongue, lose thy light. Moon take thy flight. Now die, die, die, die.
Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.
One travels long distances not solely for large gatherings, but for something more intangible. I have always gone out on a limb for love. A dangerous, romantic, disappointing way to live.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger.