Memory, the warder of the brain.
I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip
All is well ended if this suit be won. That you express content; which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day.
Sweet are the uses of adversity
A knot you are of damned bloodsuckers.
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.