Our eyes are sentinels unto our judgements, And should give certain judgement what they see; But they are rash sometimes, and tell us wonders Of common things, which when our judgments find, They can then check the eyes, and call them blind.
I know she hates me, yet cannot choose but love her: No matter, if but to vex her, I'll haunt her still; Though I get nothing else, I'll have my will.
Let me feel how thy pulses beat.
FRANCISCUS: How sweetly she looks! Oh, but there's a wrinkle in her brow as deep as philosophy.
She that in life and love refuses me, In death and shame my partner she shall be.
Tis time to die, when 'tis a shame to live.
Know all the Questions, but not the Answers Look for the Different, instead of the Same Never Walk where there's room for Running Don't do anything that can't be a Game
