It is in pardoning that we are pardoned.

I have lived long enough. My way of life is to fall into the sere, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age, as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends I must not look to have.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

I have seen better faces in my time Than stands on any shoulder that I see Before me at this instant.

Full fathom five thy father lies

In thy youth wast as true a lover, As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow

Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.