What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.
There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then unto me.
A peace is of the nature of a conquest; for then both parties nobly are subdued, and neither party loser.
Men are April when they woo, December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.