Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness! This is the state of man: today he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, tomorrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And - when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening - nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.

Perseverance... keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail in monumental mockery.

As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.

I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.

It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that craves wary walking.

He's loved of the distracted multitude, who like not in their judgement, but their eyes.

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