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• Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), All 's Well that Ends Well -- Act i, Sc. 1...
• There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune
  Omitted, all the voyage of their life Is bound in shallows and in miserie...
• And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
  For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings....
• The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), King Lear -- Act v, Sc. 3...
• Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin ai
  And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind....
• Which shall to all our nights and days to come Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act i, Sc. 5...
• Nor can his blessed soul look down from heaven, Or break the eternal sabbath of his rest.
  -- John Dryden (1631-1700) -- The Spanish Friar, Act v, Sc. 2...
• Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder?
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Macbeth -- Act iii, Sc. 4...
• Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win By fearing to attempt.
  -- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Measure for Measure -- Act i, Sc. 4...