“When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools.”

“A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; But were we burdened with light weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.”

“We strut and fret our hour upon the stage and then are no more.”

“Shall we their fond pageant see?Lord, what fools these mortals be!”

“The weight of this sad time we must obey,Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.The oldest hath borne most: we that are youngShall never see so much, nor live so long.”

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

“Come, we burn daylight, ho!”