We all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh; few are angels.

Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light

we are the lords of all eternity

Thou frothy tickle-brained hedge-pig!

Sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.

When you depart from me sorrow abides and happiness takes his leave.

Every man has a bag hanging before him, in which he puts his neighbour's faults, and another behind him in which he stows his own.