Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment.

Let us not burden our remembrances with a heaviness that's gone.

Ideas are the very coinage of your brain.

When thou cam'st first, Thou strok'st me and made much of me; wouldst give me Water with berries in't; and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night; and then I loved thee And showed thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.

I was born free as Caesar; so were you

An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.

There's not a note of mine that's worth the noting.