Sweet are the uses of adversity; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.

...an old man is twice a child.

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition: By that sin fell the angels ...

All that glisters is not gold.

Beauty itself doth of itself persuade The eyes of men without an orator.

For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?

If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, "This poet lies ..."

When we are born, we cry that we are come To this great stage of fools.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves ...

Neither a borrower nor a lender be; For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.