William Shakespeare

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.

To thine own self be true.

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin
As self-neglecting.

Love is not love when it alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove - o no, it is an ever fixed mark that looks on Tempests and is never shaken.

He which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart, his passport shall be made
And crowns for convoy put into his purse.
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship, to die with us.

Cry Havoc! And let slip the dogs of war.

Now sir, young Fortinbras,
Of unimproved mettle hot and full,
Hath in the skirts of Norway here and there
Sharked up a list of lawless resolutes
For food and diet to some enterprise
That hath a stomach in't.

Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.

Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.