It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears! -Romeo

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings.

We will meet; and there we may rehearse most obscenely and courageously.

If ever (as that ever may be near) you meet in some fresh cheek the power of fancy, then shall you know the wounds invisible that love's keen, arrows make.

Now I will believe that there are unicorns.

Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?

O, she's warm! If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating.