I hold it cowardice To rest mistrustful where a noble heart Hath pawned an open hand in sign of love.

To die: - to sleep: No more; and, by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished.

He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger.

I do know when the blood burns, how prodigal the soul lends the tongue vows.

There's a time for all things.

How long a time lies in one little word?

Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.