Kindness nobler ever than revenge.
So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fishlike smell; a kind of not of the newest poor-John. A strange fish!
To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue.
I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.