I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book!
I cannot but remember such things were that were most precious to me.
My pride fell with my fortunes.
All things that are, are with more spirit chased than enjoyed.
I must be cruel, only to be kind.
But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.