You have her father's love, Demetrius; Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him!
The love of heaven makes one heavenly.
The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.
My heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand.
You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense.
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We are such stuff as dreams are made of.