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• When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul Lends the tongue vows.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 3...
• Her father loved me; oft invited me; Still question'd me the story of my life, From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have passed.
  I ran it through, even from my boyish days, To the very moment that he bade me tell i...
• So have I heard, and do in part believe it. But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 1...
• Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring!
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act v, Sc. 1...
• O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
  Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter!...
• A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, The perfume and suppliance of a minute.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act i, Sc. 3...
• Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
  This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man....
• I 'll example you with thievery: The sun 's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea
  he moon 's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the su...
• One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she 's dead.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Hamlet -- Act v, Sc. 1...