How poor are they that have have not patients.

And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.

Time's the king of men; he's both their parent, and he is their grave, and gives them what he will, not what they crave.

And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ; And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, But by reflection, by some other things.

My soul is in the sky.

A gentleman that loves to hear himself talk, will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.