Journeys end in lovers meeting.
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We are such stuff as dreams are made of.
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.
Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
No evil lost is wailed when it is gone.
Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men?