Profit is a blessing, if it's not stolen.
A smile cures the wounding of a frown.
Thou know'st 'tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity.
Now is the winter of our discontent.
The pow'r that I have on you is to spare you; The malice towards you to forgive you.
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.