Ромео и Джульетта

we were born to die

with his own tears made drunk

I see that madmen have no ears.

Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:
They are but beggars that can count their worth;
But my true love is grown to such excess
I cannot sum up of half my wealth.

Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

Alas poor Romeo! he is already dead;
shot through the ear with a love song.

they stumble that run fast

Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
And vice sometimes by action dignified.

Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books,
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.

I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.

With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;
For stony limits cannot hold love out,
And what love can do that dares love attempt.

Turn back, dull earth, and find my centre out.

Go, then; fir 'tis in vain
To seek him here that means not to be found.

let lips do what hands do

seek happy nights to happy days

Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;
One desperate grief cures with another's languish:
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die.

I strike quickly, being moved.

while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar