Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.

If there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness, did lay siege to it, Making it momentary as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream, Brief as the lightning in the collied night That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say 'Behold!' The jaws of darkness do devour it up; So quick bright things come to confusion.

Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.

Lovers can do their amorous rites by their own beauties

Your "if" is the only peacemaker; much virtue in "if.

I'll note you in my book of memory.

The venom clamours of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.