Many that are not mad have, sure, more lack of reason.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.

What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.

What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.

Faint heart never won fair maid.

Taste your legs, sire: put them into motion.