When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.

Children wish fathers looked but with their eyes; fathers that children with their judgment looked; and either may be wrong.

Here comes Monseiur Le Beau. Rosalind: With his mouth full of news. Celia: Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. Rosalind: Then shall we be news-crammed. Celia: All the better; we shall be the more marketable.

Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep.

Why, i' faith, methinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise and too little for a great praise: only this commendation I can afford her, that were she other than she is, she were unhandsome; and being no other but as she is, I do not like her. (Benedick, from Much Ado About Nothing)

What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts.

O, she's warm! If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating.