Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.
None can cure their harms by wailing them.
Life... is a paradise to what we know of death.
Do all men kill the things they do not love ............ The quality of mercy is not strain'd It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest It blesseth him that gives and him that takes
We are ready to try our fortunes to the last man.
I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.