Be not afraid of greatness.

Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

These cardinals trifle with me; I abhor; This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.

Good words are better than bad strokes.

What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye

There was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently

Oh! that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves.