Ideas are the very coinage of your brain.

When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray!

When holy and devout religious men are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence; so sweet is zealous contemplation.

The past is prologue.

Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth

Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity

a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.