William Shakespeare

My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones, Nor to be seen: my crown is call'd content; A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.

I must be cruel only to be kind.

How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping?

When daisies pied and violets blue And lady-smocks all silver-white And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men; for thus sings he, Cuckoo; Cuckoo, cuckoo; O, word of fear, Unpleasing to a married ear.

Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid!

ROSS You must have patience, madam. LADY MACDUFF He had none: His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.

By the apostle Paul, shadows tonight Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers.

Poor and content is rich and rich enough.

All is well ended if this suit be won. That you express content; which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day.

I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange with-out heresy.