“Alas, poor country, almost afraid to know itself! It cannot be called our mother, but our grave.”

“Sometimes when we are labeled, when we are branded our brand becomes our calling.”

“What our contempt often hurls from us,We wish it our again; the present pleasure,By revolution lowering, does becomeThe opposite of itself”

“Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;Make dust our paper and with rainy eyesWrite sorrow on the bosom of the earth,Let's choose executors and talk of wills”

“You should not have believ'd me, for virtue cannot soinoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it. I lov'd you not.”

“Know the grave doth gape for thee thrice wider than for other men.”

“For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,Than women's are. ...For women are as roses, whose fair flow'rBeing once display'd doth fall that very hour.Viola: And so they are; alas, that they are so!To die, even when they to perfection grow!”