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The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desired.

The undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns.

The valiant never taste of death but once.

The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.

The wheel is come full circle.

They do not love that do not show their love.

They say miracles are past.

There have been many great men that have flattered the people who ne'er loved them.

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 miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.

There is no darkness but ignorance.