The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.
God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast, Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!
A man cannot make him laugh; but that's no marvel; he drinks no wine.... If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them should be, to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.
The Eyes are the window to your soul
Enough no more; Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!