He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink; his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts. (Shakespeare, Love's Labor's Lost, IV)

For this relief, much thanks

A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story

I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster

I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.

Trust not my reading, nor my observations, Which with experimental seal do warrant The tenor of my book.

Fishes live in the sea, as men do a-land; the great ones eat up the little ones.