Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more than such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.
The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.
There's nothing in this world can make me joy.
The gloomy shade of death.
Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter!
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.