To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!

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

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

Oh, flatter me; for love delights in praises.

But the strong base and building of my love is as the very centre of the earth, drawing all things to it.

The king hath note of all that they intend, by interception which they dream not of.