Shine out fair sun, till I have bought a glass, That I may see my shadow as I pass.
Men prize the thing ungained more than it is.
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.
My business was great, and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
Good words are better than bad strokes.
Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.