Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me.

He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger.

Every why has a wherefore.

As good luck would have it.

That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quenched them hath given me fire.

Give me that man that is not passion's slave, and I will wear him in my heart's core, in my heart of heart, as I do thee.

We bring forth weeds when our quick minds lie still.