Never play with the feelings of others, because you may win the game but the risk is that you will surely lose the person for life time

Let the galled jade wince; our withers are unwrung.

The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.

O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.

This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.

Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear, Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. The measure done, I’ll watch her place of stand, And, touching hers, make blessèd my rude hand. Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Remembrance of things past.