There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.

There's place and means for every man alive.

What need the bridge much broader than the flood?

Fight to the last gasp.

To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.

Things are often spoke and seldom meant.

Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. But, either it was different in blood,- Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,- Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.