There is nothing good or bad, only thinking makes it so.

Brevity is the soul of wit.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

Lord Polonius: What do you read, my lord? Hamlet: Words, words, words. Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord? Hamlet: Between who? Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.

Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears.

Sweets to the sweet.

The Play's the Thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.

A knavish speech sleeps in a fool's ear.

To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.

[Once plans for each eventuality are resolved, further] Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, but only saps today of its strength.

William Blake cursed the flesh for a clod, Yet of some of his sayings we Moderns have heard tell: 'The nakedness of woman is the work of God', Or that title--The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.

Contrary to my image, I do have a sense of humour.

Human beings have always told their histories and truths through parable and fable. We are inveterate storytellers.

Love based upon indulgence of animal passion, is at best a selfish affair, and likely to snap under the slightest strain.

People read more mysteries than they do political pamphlets.

Maybe I'm just getting old, but I remember when your average NFL player would come to the sideline, spit out three bicuspids, Scotch-tape his humerus together and get back out there.

Relax, she’s not really converting. (Acheron) Look at her! She’s not exactly baking cookies! (Xypher)

All investigations of Time, however sophisticated or abstract, have at their true base the human fear of mortality.

The good of the whole of Creation, the world and all its creatures together, is never a consideration because it is never thought of; our culture now simply lacks the means for thinking of it.