I love you more than word can wield the matter, Dearer than eye-sight, space and liberty

Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.

A smile cures the wounding of a frown.

The due of honor in no point omit.

He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May.

I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.

Love is too young to know what conscience is.