Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.

Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.

Farewell, fair cruelty.

It's easy for someone to joke about scars if they've never been cut.

And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

For I am he am born to tame you, Kate; and bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate conformable as other household Kates.