An envious fever of pale and bloodless emulation.

What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart

If [God] send me no husband, for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening.

I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts. There's fennel for you, and columbines: — there 's rue for you; and here's some for me: — we may call it, herb of grace o'Sundays: — you may wear your rue with a difference. — There's a daisy: — I would give you some violets; but they withered all, when my father died: — They say, he made a good end.

The eye sees all, but the mind shows us what we want to see.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.