Grief best is pleased with grief's society.
The devil knew what he did when he made men politic; he crossed himself by it.
Tis no sin for a man to labor in his vocation.
Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.
There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.
Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.