Small to greater matters must give way.

Out, damned spot! out, I say! One: two: why, then 'tis time to do't. Hell is murky!

Be merry; you have cause, so have we all, of joy; for our escape is much beyond our loss . . . . then wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.

I do begin to have bloody thoughts.

Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.

Even as one heat another heat expels, or as one nail by strength drives out another, so the remembrance of my former love is by a newer object quite forgotten.

Your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole.