O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottage princes' palaces.

Take pains. Be perfect.

I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.

I have almost forgotten the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool’d to hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were in’t: I have supt full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me.

Do you see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel? Polonius: By the mass, and ‘tis like a camel, indeed. Hamlet: Methinks it is like a weasel. Polonius: It is backed like a weasel. Hamlet: Or like a whale? Polonius: Very like a whale.

To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.