O, she's warm! If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating.

If the masses can love without knowing why, they also hate without much foundation.

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

one pain is cured by another. catch some new infection in your eye and the poison of the old one would die.

O for a horse with wings!