You cram these words into mine ears against the stomach of my sense.

He is winding the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.

In time we hate that which we often fear.

While thou livest keep a good tongue in thy head.

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end.

Sweet are the uses of adversity, which, like a toad, though ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in its head.

I feel within me a peace above all earthly dignities, a still and quiet conscience.

I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.