“The setting sun, and the music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in rememberance more than long things past.”
“Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake- its everything except what it is! (Act 1, scene 1)”
“How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!”
“By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.”
“In nature there's no blemish but the mind. None can be called deformed but the unkind.”
“He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.”
“He was ever precise in promise-keeping.”
“Were all the letters sun, I could not see one.”
“I and my bosom must debate awhile, and then I would no other company.”
“God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!”
“Sleep knits up the raveled sleeve of care.”
“And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.”
“O, how full of briers is this working-day world!”
“The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure.”
“In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages, long ago betid”
“But earthlier happy is the rose distill'dThan that which withering on the virgin thornGrows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.”
“Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on thought.”
“Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well; and yet words are not deeds.”
“If is a custom,More honor'd in the breach than the observance.”
“Lord, I could not endure a husband with a beard on his face! I had rather lie in the woolen.”
“Nor age so eat up my invention.”
“All hoods make not monks.”
“Be merry; you have cause, so have we all, of joy; for our escape is much beyond our loss . . . . then wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.”
“Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? And the creature run from the cur. There thou mightst behold the great image of authority-a dog's obeyed in office.”
“On a day - alack the day! -Love, whose month is ever May,Spied a blossom passing fairPlaying in the wanton air”
