Shakespeare
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Love is merely madness.
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A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.
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How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a weary world.
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The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves if we are underlings.
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Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger:
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.
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It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
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To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.
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Tempt not a desperate man.
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Why then the worlds mine oyster, Which I with sword shall open.
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Why, then 'tis none to you; for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so: to me it [Denmark] is a prison.
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O, throw away the worser part of it, And live the purer with the other half.
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There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.
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Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.
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I Would Challenge You To A Battle Of Wits But I See You Are Unarmed.