Perseverance, my dear Lord. Keeps honour bright.

I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.

I have almost forgotten the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool’d to hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were in’t: I have supt full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me.

I dreamt my lady came and found me dead . . . . . . . . . . . . And breathed such life with kisses in my lips That I revived and was an emperor.

Time travels in divers paces with divers persons.

Men of few words are the best men." (3.2.41)

And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, — I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days.