Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service

Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.

Here comes Monseiur Le Beau. Rosalind: With his mouth full of news. Celia: Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. Rosalind: Then shall we be news-crammed. Celia: All the better; we shall be the more marketable.

In nature there's no blemish but the mind. None can be called deformed but the unkind.

Few love to hear the sins they love to act.

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

...lest too light winning make the prize light.