I stalk about her door, like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.

O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear.

The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance from heaven to Earth, from Earth to heaven; and as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name; such tricks hath strong imagination.

Ingrateful man with liquorish draughts, and morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind that from it all consideration slips.

He's a soldier; and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.

A woman's thought runs before her actions.

You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser.