William Shakespeare

Men of few words are the best men.

And makes us rather bear those ills we have,
Than fly to others that we know not of?

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
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!

A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool.

I must be cruel, only to be kind.

Good name in man and woman, dear my Lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he, that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that, which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.

If chance will have me King, why, chance may crown me
Without my stir.

This above all: to thine ownself be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Port.: <...> drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.
Macd.: What three things does drink especially provoke?
Port.: Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance; therefore, much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him, and it mars him; it sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him.