The devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs--he will give the devil his due.

Give thanks for what you are today and go on fighting for what you gone be tomorrow

There's small choice in rotten apples.

Scorn, at first, makes after-love the more.

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness And in the taste confounds the appetite. Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.