No evil lost is wailed when it is gone.
A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
Give me that man that is not passion's slave, and I will wear him in my heart's core, in my heart of heart, as I do thee.
Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Some falls the means are happier to rise.
I have lived long enough. My way of life is to fall into the sere, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age, as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends I must not look to have.