I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. (Act III, sc. I, 37-38)

The object of Art is to give life a shape.

Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile; If not, why then this parting was well made.

Some men there are love not a gaping pig, some that are mad if they behold a cat, and others when the bagpipe sings I the nose cannot contain their urine.

My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; I love not less, though less the show appear: That love is merchandised whose rich esteeming The owner's tongue doth publish every where.

Give obedience where 'tis truly owed.

Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.