One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.

Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?

When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry.

A gentleman that loves to hear himself talk, will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.

My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel; I know not where I am nor what I do.

Let men say we be men of good government, being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.

Is there no pity sitting in the clouds That sees into the bottom of my grief? O sweet my mother, cast me not away! Delay this marriage for a month, a week, Or if you do not, make the bridal bed In that dim monument where Tybalt lies.