As for the brandy, "nothing extenuate"; and the water, put nought in in malice.

Life begins as a quest of the child for the man and ends as a journey by the man to rediscover the child.

Why should the brave Spanish soldiers brag? The sunne never sets in the Spanish dominions, but ever shineth on one part or other we have conquered for our king.

People often say that humans have always eaten animals, as if this is a justification for continuing the practice. According to this logic, we should not try to prevent people from murdering other people, since this has also been done since the earliest of times.

I have offended reputation, A most unnoble swerving.

He's gone, and who knows how may he report Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?

I think we have more machinery of government than is necessary, too many parasites living on the labour of the industrious.

Heaven will be no heaven to me if I do not meet my wife there.

I personally call the type of government which can be removed without violence 'democracy,' and the other, 'tyranny.'.

The early village cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.

People who want to appear clever rely on memory. People who want to get things done make lists.

The Satanic school.

Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!

DepLeted uranium is a warcrime in progress. Doug Rokke appointed by Norman Schwarzkopf as commander of a cleanup crew of several hundred, 30 of whom have died of cancer http://indymedia.org.

No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. -The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1.

A thorn defends the rose, harming only those who would steal the blossom.

It's one of the tragic ironies of the theatre that only one man in it can count on steady work -- the night watchman.

Give me a child for the first seven years, and you may do what you like with him afterwards.

Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined; Till at his second bidding darkness fled, Light shone, and order from disorder sprung.