Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
... the spring, the summer, The chilling autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world By their increase, now knows not which is which.
Love`s reason`s without reason
You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.
I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.
Children wish fathers looked but with their eyes; fathers that children with their judgment looked; and either may be wrong.