Last scene of all that ends this strange, eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion. I am sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Exceeds man's might: that dwells with the gods above.
There is flattery in friendship.
To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.
A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven