“What wound did ever heal but by degrees?”

“How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees? Iago”

“Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves.”

“O good Horatio, what a wounded name,Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!If thou didst ever hold me in thy heartAbsent thee from felicity awhile,And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,To tell my story. . .O, I die, Horatio;”

“Ay me! for aught that ever I could read,could ever hear by tale or history,the course of true love never did run smooth.”

“These words are razors to my wounded heart".”

“How poor are they that have no patients! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?'""Shakespeare isn't going to save you this time, Superman. Your time's run out."He scowled. "Perhaps I should have been studying The Taming of the Shrew!”