But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.

Of all base passions, fear is the most accursed.

Beware the leader who bangs the drums of war in order to whip the citizenry into a patriotic fervor.

The big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose, In piteous chase.

Examine well your blood.

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.

You abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone.