Time travels at different speeds for different people. I can tell you who time strolls for, who it trots for, who it gallops for, and who it stops cold for.

They say miracles are past.

And to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.

Is she kind as she is fair?

A grandma's name is little less in love than is the doting title of a mother.

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.

O horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee!