My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.
There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
Oh what fools we mortals are.
What is past is prologue.
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; for grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop.
I kissed thee ere I killed thee. No way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.