“Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
If music be the food of love, play on.
Out, out brief candle, life is but a walking shadow…a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Be not afraid of greatness: some men are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them.
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life, is rounded with a sleep.”