Summer's lease hath all too short a date.

A great cause of the night is lack of the sun.

Hate pollutes the mind.

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh.

And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, As patches set upon a little breach, Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patch'd.

Dreams are the children of idled minds.

Eternity was in our lips and eyes.