So curses all Eve's daughters of what complexion soever.

There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.

He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink; his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts. (Shakespeare, Love's Labor's Lost, IV)

Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.

Report of fashions in proud Italy Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation Limps after in base imitation

RUMOUR: "Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.

We few. We happy few. We band of brothers, for he today That sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.