Live how we can, yet die we must.

It is a wise father that knows his own child.

Highly fed and lowly taught.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. And let my liver rather heat with wine, than my heart cool with mortifying groans.

My love is thaw'd; Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, bears no impression of the thing it was

I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.

Nothing can come of nothing.