All the world's a stage.

You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser.

Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, Past reason hunted, and no sooner had Past reason hated

Hate pollutes the mind.

Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.

But love is blind and lovers cannot see

This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.