Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

O, let him pass. He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.

Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze. I will not budge for no man's pleasure.

Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own

I am misanthropos, and hate mankind, For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something.

I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip

Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; youth is nimble, age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame.