This thing of darkness I acknowlege mine. There is nothing more confining than the prison we don't know we are in.

There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm.

Better conquest never canst thou make than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts against giddy, loose suggestions.

And where the offense is, let the great axe fall.

When I was at home I was in a better place