It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart; My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.

I had as lief have been myself alone.

For sorrow ends not, when it seemeth done.

Wishers were ever fools.

To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ.

There's an old saying that applies to me: you can't lose a game if you don't play the game. (Act 1, scene 4)