I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.

Beauty lives with kindness.

For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet

For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Juliet is the east and i am the sun.

There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distill it out.