Tis ever common That men are merriest when they are from home.

The one I love is the son of the one I hate! -Juliet p. 75

No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, But by reflection, by some other things.

Venus smiles not in a house of tears.

For death remembered should be like a mirror, Who tells us life’s but breath, to trust it error.

Poor and content, is rich and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.

Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ.