Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine.

I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.

Truth hath a quiet breast.

I came, saw, and overcame.

We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

Ideas are the very coinage of your brain.

He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding.