If she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall with our English dead.
Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.
A great cause of the night is lack of the sun.