There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.

As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have; but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not" (5.3.25-28).

These earthly godfathers of Heaven's lights, that give a name to every fixed star, have no more profit of their shining nights than those that walk and know not what they are.

But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.

We few. We happy few. We band of brothers, for he today That sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.

There is a world elsewhere.

If you would persuade, you must appeal to interest rather than intellect. We are advertis'd by our loving friends.