There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat; and we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
The skies are painted with unnumber’d sparks, They are all fire and every one doth shine, But there ‘s but one in all doth hold his place.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.[Also known as:]It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
Rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, which gives men stomach to digest his words with better appetite.
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of those worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself.