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Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, meeting the check of such another day.
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You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.
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No evil lost is wailed when it is gone.
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To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
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Death rock me asleep.
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Courage mounteth with occasion.
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No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.
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Light and lust are deadly enemies.
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I had as lief have been myself alone.
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To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers' pride, Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd In process of the seasons have I seen, Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
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Were all the letters sun, I could not see one.
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Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
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See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
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Like madness, is the glory of this life.
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He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.
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All dark and comfortless.
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Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new-create another heir As great in admiration as herself.
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Time, that takes survey of all the world, Must have a stop.
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But shall we wear these glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
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O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! And yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all hooping.
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Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
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He does it with better grace, but I do it more natural.
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Though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy.
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I am now of all humors that have showed themselves humors since the old days of goodman Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight.