Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares.

Men should be what they seem.

There's a time for all things.

Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.

So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men.

The weariest and most loathed worldly life, that age, ache, penury and imprisonment can lay on nature is a paradise, to what we fear of death.

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.