The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.
Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.
There's daggers in men's smiles.
Upon thy cheek I lay this zealous kiss, as seal to the indenture of my love.
When we our betters see bearing our woes, We scarcely think our miseries our foes.
Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes; then little strength rings out the doleful knell.