“For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.”

“They that have power to hurt and will do none,That do not do the thing they most do show,Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,They rightly do inherit Heaven's graces,And husband nature's riches from expense;They are the lords and owners of their faces,Others but stewards of their excellence.The summer's flow'r is to the summer sweetThough to itself it only live and die;But if that flow'r with base infection meet,The basest weed outbraves his dignity:For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.”

“The setting sun, and music at the close,As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,Writ in remembrance more than things long past.”

“More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before:The setting sun, and music at the close,As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,Writ in remembrance more than things long past”

“You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!”

“How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.”

“And Caesar's spirit, raging for revenge,With Ate by his side come hot from hell,Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice Cry "Havoc!" and let slip the dogs of war,That this foul deed shall smell above the earthWith carrion men, groaning for burial.”