The blood of youth burns not with such excess as gravity's revolt to wantonness.

Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.

Give to a gracious message An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell Themselves when they be felt.

Nimble thought can jump both sea and land.

Women are as roses, whose fair flower, being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.

Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.

Sometimes, less is more.