Go to you bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.
In time we hate that which we often fear.
Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?
Let no such man be trusted.
It is the stars, The stars above us, govern our conditions.
Now is the winter of our discontent.
Love is too young to know what conscience is.
What, man, defy the devil. Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.
Farewell, fair cruelty.
Parting is such sweet sorrow.
The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well