To have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and poor hands.

For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar; and't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon.

The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?

Oh, injurious love, that respites me a life, whose very comfort is still a dying horror

What a terrible era in which idiots govern the blind.

Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, bear t that th' opposed may beware of thee.

Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.