William Shakespeare

Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe

On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily.

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.

And I will make it felony to drink small beer.

Love's stories written in love's richest books. To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.

A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.

Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; youth is nimble, age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame.

Tell them, that, to ease them of their griefs, Their fear of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, Their pangs of love, with other incident throes That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them.

The dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.

And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.

Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? ...If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example?

Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends.

The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.

Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?

I thought my heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.

Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other side

It was a lover and his lass, _x000D_ _x000D_ With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,_x000D_ _x000D_ That o'er the green corn-field did pass,_x000D_ _x000D_ In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,_x000D_ _x000D_ When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;_x000D_ _x000D_ Sweet lovers love the spring.

And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother

Costly thy habit [dress] as thy purse can buy; But not expressed in fancy - rich, not gaudy. For the apparel oft proclaims the man.

Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.