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Et tu, Brute!
what an ass am I!
Hell is empty And all the devils are here.
Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't
Parting is such sweet sorrow
All the world’s a stage And all the men and women merely players
This above all: to thine ownself be true
Men of few words are the best men
A plague o' both your houses!
Wherefore art thou Romeo?
Commit the oldest sins
Something Wicked This Way Comes (mask)
the game is afoot
He thinks too much: such men are dangerous
We are such stuff As dreams are made on
For the rain, it raineth every day
For the rain it raineth every day
We are such stuff As dreams are made on
You pay a great deal too dear for what’s given freely
That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet
That which we call a rose By any name would smell as sweet
There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so
Why, then the world's my oyster
Why, then the world's my oyster (SE)
Is this a dagger which I see before me
I like this place And willingly could waste my time in it.
Hell is empty And all the devils are here
Nothing will come of nothing
It is a tale told by an idiot,
He hath an excellent stomach.
The breaking of so great a thing should make a greater crack (earth edition)
The breaking of so great a thing should make a greater crack (heart edition)
Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none
A plague o' both your houses!
A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!
A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!
To be, or not to be
Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under ‘t.
Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under ‘t.
Something wicked this way comes.
a heart of gold
Once more unto the breach
O brave new world, That has such people in ’t!
too much of a good thing
More sinned against than sinning.
The breaking of so great a thing should make a greater crack
To be or not to be (mask)
Though this is madness (mask)


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