Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears.
a young woman in love always looks like patience on a monument smiling at grief
Ready to go but never to return.
Sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear: And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy.
The venom clamours of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.