I thought my heart had been wounded with the claws of a lion.

Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

I cannot but remember such things were that were most precious to me.

There's daggers in men's smiles.

The attempt and not the deed confounds us.

This we prescribe, though no physician; Deep malice makes too deep incision; Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed; Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.

We make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and the stars; as if we were villians by compulsion.