I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people.

Fair is foul, and foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air.

Hot blood begets hot thoughts, And hot thoughts beget Hot deeds, And hot deeds is love.

Oh! that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves.

Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief

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

... by indirections find directions out.