Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

If it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most offending soul.

Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

The violence of either grief or joy, their own enactures with themselves destroy.

One man in his time plays many parts.

The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.