Men of few words are the best men." (3.2.41)

Death is a fearful thing.

Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.

Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache; but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.

This liberty is all that I request.

I profess not talking: only this, Let each man do his best.

Melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.