Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
Love is a familiar; love is a devil: there is no evil angel but love.
Loss of virginity is rational increase, and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost.
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
Live a little, comfort a little, cheer thyself a little.
Lions make leopards tame.
Like madness is the glory of this life, as this pomp shows to a little oil and root.
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, so do our minutes hasten to their end.
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
