Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.

Tired with all these for restful death I cry, As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn.

The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.

Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.

For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Love that we cannot have is the one that lasts the longest,hurts the deepest,but feels the strongest

Well, in that hit you miss. She'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow. She hath Dian's wit, And, in strong proff of chastity well armed, From Love's weak childish bow she lives uncharmed. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold. O, she is rich in beauty; only poor That, when she dies, with dies her store. Act 1,Scene 1, lines 180-197