“Beauty itself doth of itself persuadeThe eyes of men without orator.”

“No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself,But by reflection, by some other things.”

“Friendship is constant in all other thingsSave in the office and affairs of love.Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues.Let every eye negotiate for itself,And trust no agent; for beauty is a witchAgainst whose charms faith melteth into blood.”

“O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head,Which have no correspondence with true sight!...Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled,That censures falsely what they see aright?If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,What means the world to say it is not so?If it be not, then love doth well denoteLove's eye is not so true as all men's 'No.'How can it? O, how can Love's eye be true,That is so vex'd with watching and with tears? No marvel then, though I mistake my view;The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind,Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find. - Shakespeare's Sonnet 148”

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

“This she? no, this is Diomed's Cressida:If beauty have a soul, this is not she;If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimonies,If sanctimony be the gods' delight,If there be rule in unity itself,This is not she. O madness of discourse,That cause sets up with and against itself!Bi-fold authority! where reason can revoltWithout perdition, and loss assume all reasonWithout revolt: this is, and is not, Cressid.Within my soul there doth conduce a fightOf this strange nature that a thing inseparateDivides more wider than the sky and earth,And yet the spacious breadth of this divisionAdmits no orifex for a point as subtleAs Ariachne's broken woof to enter.Instance, O instance! strong as Pluto's gates;Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven:Instance, O instance! strong as heaven itself;The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolved, and loosed;And with another knot, five-finger-tied,The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,The fragments, scraps, the bits and greasy relicsOf her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed.”

“A dream itself is but a shadow.”