Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.
[S]ince brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
Love is . . . a madness most discreet
When I got enough confidence, the stage was gone. When I was sure of losing, I won. When I needed people the most, they left me. When I learnt to dry my tears, I found a shoulder to cry on. And when I mastered the art of hating, somebody started loving me.
Nature's tears are reason's merriment.
O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear.