We must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.

No matter where; of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth

I had as lief have been myself alone.

When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo; O, word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear.

There is a time in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.