There is nothing so confining as the prisons of our own perceptions.
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
We must follow, not force Providence.
Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling. HAMLET. What, the fair Ophelia! QUEEN GERTRUDE. Sweets to the sweet: farewell!
Under loves heavy burden do I sink. --Romeo
Art made tongue-tied by authority.