Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.

And since you know you cannot see yourself, so well as by reflection, I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself, that of yourself which you yet know not of.

I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.

A very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.

There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distill it out.

Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the very day that young Hamlet was born, he that is mad and sent into England." "Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?" "Why, because he was mad. He shall recover his wits there, or, if he do not, it's no great matter there." "Why?" "'Twill not be seen in him there. There the men are as mad as he.

My heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand.