“When a father gives to his son, both laugh when a son gives to his father, both cry.”
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When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.
But men are men the best sometimes forget.
If we are marked to die, we are enough to do our country loss and if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honor.