Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell. Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet Grace must still look so.

Fishes live in the sea, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones.

Every why has a wherefore.

a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.

If they love they know not why, they hate upon no better ground, they hate upon no better a ground

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.

for Mercutio's soul Is but a little way above our heads, Staying for thine to keep him company: Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.