The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.

I thank God I am as honest as any man living that is an old man and no honester than I.

O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.

To weep is to make less the depth of grief.

Trip over love, you can get up. Fall in love and you fall forever. Anyone can catch your eye, but it takes someone special to catch your heart. Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.

Full many a glorious morn I have seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.

For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as tie heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me!