Patience is sottish, and impatience does become a dog that's mad.
We wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.
If she lives till doomsday, she'll burn a week longer than the whole world.
Who is here so vile that will not love his country?
I despised my arrival on this earth and I despise my departure; it is a tragedy.
Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life.