There’s small choice in rotten apples.
There she shook the holy water from her heavenly eyes, and clamour moistened.
There is thy gold – worse poison to men’s souls, doing more murders in this loathsome world. Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
There is no darkness, but ignorance.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
The tempter or the tempted, who sins most, ha?
The stroke of death is as a lover’s pinch, which hurts, and is desired.
The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.
The miserable have no other medicine, but only hope.
The man that hath no music in himself, nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils.
The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.
