And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.

Olivia: What's a drunken man like, fool? Feste: Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him.

You are strangely troublesome.

There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.

For death remembered should be like a mirror, Who tells us life’s but breath, to trust it error.

He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.

Travelers never did lie, though fools at home condemn them.