This Is The Very Ecstasy Of Love.

It Is Lost At Dice, What Ancient Honor Won.

There Is A Time In The Affairs Of Men, Which, Taken At The Flood, Leads On To Fortune.

You Lack The Season Of All Natures, Sleep.

Juliet Is The East And I Am The Sun.

To Loathe The Taste Of Sweetness, Whereof Little More Than A Little Is By Much Too Much.