It were a grief so brief to part with thee. Farewell.

Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief

Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.

Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky!

Nothing can seem foul to those who win.

I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.

There is nothing so confining as the prisons of our own perceptions.