Plenty and peace breed cowards; hardness ever of hardiness is mother.
One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.
O, full of scorpions is my mind!
But jealous souls will not be answered so, They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they're jealous. 'Tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.
He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen, him not know t, and he's not robbed at all.
The head is not more native to the heart.