What is past is prologue.

You are not wood, you are not stones, but men.

We do not keep the outward form of order, where there is deep disorder in the mind.

Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, For things that are not to be remedied.

This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts of their particular additions: he is as valiant as a lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant-a man into whom nature hath so crowded humours that his valour is crush'd into folly, his folly sauced with discretion.

Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue but moody and dull melancholy, kinsman to grim and comfortless despair.

His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.