There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with't

Dreams are the children of idled minds.

A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story

Gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.

Nice customs curtsy to great kings.

So now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, My self I'll forfeit, so that other mine, Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still.

Can we outrun the heavens?