Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity?

When a gentlemen is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths.

O,speak to me no more;these words like daggers enter my ears.(a fancy way of saying SHUT UP!)" — William Shakespeare "hamlet

For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.

Downy sleep, death's counterfeit.

What we determine we often break. Purpose is but the slave to memory.

Old Time the clock-setter.