It easeth some, though none it ever cured, to think their dolour others have endured.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is slicked o'er with the pale cast of thought
Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.
Life... is a paradise to what we know of death.
Make use of time, let not advantage slip.
All that glitters is not gold.