Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more than such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.

Do you see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel? Polonius: By the mass, and ‘tis like a camel, indeed. Hamlet: Methinks it is like a weasel. Polonius: It is backed like a weasel. Hamlet: Or like a whale? Polonius: Very like a whale.

I stalk about her door, like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.

I wonder that you will still be talking. Nobody marks you.

Die for adultery! No: The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly does lecher in my sight

Love denied blights the soul we owe to God.

The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.