Love reasons without reason.

Bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible.

Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off ... Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust.

I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; Take honour from me, and my life is done.

A woman moved is like a fountain troubled, Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty.

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.