I have no other but a woman's reason: I think him so, because I think him so.
To sleep perchance to dream
Art made tongue-tied by authority.
Every subject's duty is the Kings, but every subject's soul is his own.
I am not mad; I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself; O, if I could, what grief should I forget!
Fruits that blossom first will first be ripe.