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This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
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In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
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The plants look up to heaven, from whence they have their nourishment.
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And a man's life's no more than to say "One."
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For by his face straight shall you know his heart.
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His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; his love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; his tears pure messengers sent from his heart; his heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth
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You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.
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A harmless necessary cat.
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Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
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Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.
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Scratching could not make it worse, an't were such a face as yours were.
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The let-alone lies not in your good will.
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Men at sometime are the masters of their fate.
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I stand for judgment: answer: shall I have it?
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To take arms against a sea of troubles.
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Many that are not mad have, sure, more lack of reason.
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So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps.
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Since I do purpose to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose that the world can say against it; and therefore never floutat me for what I have said against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.
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Well, God's above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
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O, spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!