Grief best is pleased with grief's society.

Tis in my memory lock'd, And you yourself shall keep the key of it.

Thou whoreson, senseless villain!

Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more than such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.

a young woman in love always looks like patience on a monument smiling at grief

Assure thee, if I do vow a friendship, I'll perform it to the last article." --Othello, Act III, Scene iii

If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.