Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know.
There are occasions and causes, why and wherefore in all things.
His life was gentle; and the elementsSo mixed in him, that Nature might stand upAnd say to all the world, THIS WAS A MAN!
Tongues in trees, books in running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him; The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.
There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps; and not ever sad then; for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.
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