Hey, I can't help it. I blame it on my Jeans.

“Friar Laurence:

O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:
For nought to vile that on the earth doth live,
But to the earth some special good doth give; nor aught so good, but, strain'd from that fair use, Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied,
And vice sometime's by action dignified.”

“Ram. My lord constable, the armor that I saw in your tent to-night, are those stars or suns upon it?
Con. Stars, my lord.
Dau. Some of them will fall to-morrow, I hope.
Con. And yet my sky shall not want.
Dau. That may be, for you bear a many superfluously, and ’twere more honor some were away.
Con. Even as your horse bears your praises; who would trot as well, were some of your brags dismounted.

Henry V, 3.7.69-78”

“Love is blind.”

“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars/ But in ourselves.”

“Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,—
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.”

My relief is here! Later

“The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law. - Romeo”

Peace brother!

“Macbeth:"'If we should fail?"
Lady Macbeth: "We fail? But screw your courage to the sticking place, And we'll not fail.”

“Strike as thou didst at Caesar; for I know / When though didst hate him worst, thou loved’st him better / Than ever thou loved’st Cassius.”

“My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve,
Desire his death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly express'd;

For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.”