Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
We have some salt of our youth in us.
What a pretty thing man is when he goes in his doublet and hose and leaves off his wit!
CLEOPATRA: If it be love indeed, tell me how much. ANTONY: There's beggary in the love that can be reckoned. CLEOPATRA: I'll set a bourne how far to be belov'd. ANTONY: Then must thou needs find out new heaven, new earth.
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry.