Thus times do shift, each thing his turn does hold; New things succeed, as former things grow old.

Happy is the bride that the sun shines on.

Things are evermore sincere; / Candor here, and lustre there / Delighting.

Tears are the noble language of eyes, and when true love of words is destitute. The eye by tears speak, while the tongue is mute.

Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score; Then to that twenty, add a hundred more: A thousand to that hundred: so kiss on, To make that thousand up a million. Treble that million, and when that is done, Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun.

Conquer we shall, but, we must first contend! It's not the fight that crowns us, but the end.

Like will to like, each creature loves his kind.