We are such stuff that dreams are made of.

For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.

The prize of all too precious you.

It easeth some, though none it ever cured, to think their dolour others have endured.

They that have voice of lions and act of hares,--are they not monsters?

I always thought it was both impious and unnatural that such immanity and bloody strife should reign among professors of one faith.

Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying!