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

Wise men never sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms.

Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.... [W]hat can we bequeath, Save our deposed bodies to the ground?... [N]othing can we call our own, but death... [L]et us sit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of kings: - How some have been depos'd, some slain in war; Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd.

So distribution should undo excess, and each man have enough.

I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!

When faced with a sea of troubles, take action, and in so doing end it.

Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; for in my youth I never did apply hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; and did not, with unbashful forehead, woo the means of weakness and debility: therefore my age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kindly.