I dote on his very absence.

My love is thaw'd; Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, bears no impression of the thing it was

You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.

This is the short and the long of it.

The man that hath no music in himself

Oh, that way madness lies; let me shun that.