The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.

ROMEO There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murders in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell. I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh. Come, cordial and not poison, go with me To Juliet's grave; for there must I use thee.

Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.

Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood.

O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't!

'Tis better to bear the ills we have than fly to others that we know not of.

Exceeds man's might: that dwells with the gods above.