Nature does require her time of preservation, which perforce, I her frail son amongst my brethren mortal, must give my attendance to.

He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger.

I'll note you in my book of memory.

Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me?

To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.

Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.

Poor and content, is rich and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.