Till swollen with cunning, of a self-conceit, His waxen wings did mount above his reach, And, melting, Heavens conspir'd his overthrow.

You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute, And now and then stab, as occasion serves.

Nothing violent, oft have I heard tell, can be permanent.

Our swords shall play the orators for us.

I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.

Why should you love him whom the world hates so? Because he love me more than all the world.

We control fifty percent of a relationship. We influence one hundred percent of it.