(Death is) A leap into the dark.
Age doth not rectify, but incurvate our natures, turning bad dispositions into worser habits.
To ruminate upon evils, to make critical notes upon injuries, and be too acute in their apprehensions, is to add unto our own tortures, to feather the arrows of our enemies, to lash ourselves with the scorpions of our foes, and to resolve to sleep no more.
Women do most delight in revenge.
The man without a navel still lives in me.
Half our days we pass in the shadow of the earth; and the brother of death exacteth a third part of our lives.