As merry as the day is long.

O' What may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all

Time travels at different speeds for different people. I can tell you who time strolls for, who it trots for, who it gallops for, and who it stops cold for.

Do not speak like a death's-head, do not bid me remember mine end.

It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.

Hamlet: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Ophelia: 'Tis brief, my lord. Hamlet: As woman's love.