How use doth breed a habit in a man.

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age; wretched in both.

O' thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our times to come.

The nature of bad news affects the teller.

My story starts at sea... a perilous voyage to an unknown land... a shipwreck... The wild waters roar and heave... The brave vessel is dashed all to pieces, and all the helpless souls within her drowned... all save one... a lady... whose soul is greater than the ocean... and her spirit stronger than the sea's embrace... Not for her a watery end, but a new life beginning on a stranger shore. It will be a love story... for she will be my heroine for all time. And her name will be... Viola.

I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.

Ideas are the very coinage of your brain.