The best is yet to come.

I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.

Society is no comfort, to one not sociable.

All surfeit is the father of much fast.

I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion.

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself are much condemned to have an itching palm.