When I got enough confidence, the stage was gone. When I was sure of losing, I won. When I needed people the most, they left me. When I learnt to dry my tears, I found a shoulder to cry on. And when I mastered the art of hating, somebody started loving me.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.

The world must be peopled!

Men at sometime are the masters of their fate.

The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.

What a fool honesty is.