“In the stars is written the death of every man.”

The cat would eat fish but would not get her feet wet.

My house is small, but you are learned men And by your arguments can make a place Twenty foot broad as infinite as space.

But manly set the world on sixe and sevene; And, if thou die a martyr, go to heaven.

Filth and old age, I’m sure you will agree, are powerful wardens upon chastity.

Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.

And she was fair as is the rose in May.

But Christ’s lore and his apostles twelve, He taught and first he followed it himself.

Habit maketh no monk, ne wearing of gilt spurs maketh no knight.

For time lost may not recovered be.

One cannot be avenged for every wrong; according to the occasion, everyone who knows how, must use temperance.

Look up on high, and thank the God of all.

The guilty think all talk is of themselves.

A yokel mind loves stories from of old, Being the kind it can repeat and hold.

How potent is the fancy! People are so impressionable, they can die of imagination.

Yet do not miss the moral, my good men. For Saint Paul says that all that’s written well Is written down some useful truth to tell. Then take the wheat and let the chaff lie still.

Women naturally desire the same six things as I; they want their husbands to be brave, wise, rich, generous with money, obedient to the wife, and lively in bed.

What we usually call life is death, what we usually call death is life.

European children starved and watched their parents scheme and die. Here we grew up with toy whips. Early warning against our future leaders, the war babies.

My friends joke that I’m dead until I get onstage. I’m dead right now as you’re speaking to me.

Love is like a brick. You can build a house, or you can sink a dead body.

Let us eat, drink, and love for tomorrow we die, would be in fact the language of reason, the morality of life; and who but a fool would part with a reality for a fleeting shadow?

I don’t want to be a star, merely dying.

Death may beget life, but oppression can beget nothing other than itself.

When someone you love dies you pay for the sin of outliving her with a thousand piercing regrets.