O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul that, struggling to be free, art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart with strings of steel, be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.

I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks.

It is meant that noble minds keep ever with their likes; for who so firm that cannot be seduced.

I hate ingratitude more in a man than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood".

In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond.

For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; At whose approach ghosts wandring here and there Troop home to church-yards.... For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully exile themselves from light, And must for aye consort with black brow'd night.