That is not the best sermon which makes the hearers go away talking to one another and praising the speaker, but which makes them go away thoughtful and serious, and hastening to be alone.

Gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.

The iron tongue of Midnight hath told twelve lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall outstep the coming morn as much as we this night over-watch'd.

For he was likely, had he been put on, to have proved most royally.

Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.

From this day forward until the end of the world...we in it shall be remembered...we band of brothers.

The bitter clamor of two eager tongues.