The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.
If one good deed in all my life I did, I do repent it from my very soul.
Me, poor man, my library Was dukedom large enough.
Shall I compare thee to a summer day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate... When in eternal lines to time thou growst So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.
O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.