“World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee/ Life would not yield to age.”

“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;”

“O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beamsThat bring to my remembrance from what state I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere.”

“Take now this Ring,' he said; 'for thy labours and thy cares will be heavy, but in all it will support thee and defend thee from weariness. For this is the Ring of Fire, and herewith, maybe, thou shalt rekindle hearts to the valour of old in a world that grows chill.”

“Thou hast conquered, O pale Galilean; the world has grown grey from thy breath;”

“Govern thy life and thy thoughts as if the whole world were to see the one, and read the other.”