Macbeth to Witches: What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, That look not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth, And yet are on 't?

Barnes are blessings.

You have too much respect upon the world; They lose it that do buy it with much care

a girl takes too much time to love and a few seconds to hate. but a boy takes a few seconds to love and too much time to hate.

But it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, which, by often rumination, wraps me in the most humorous sadness.

There's many a man hath more hair than wit.

It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart; My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.