'Tis strange, but true: for truth is always strange;
Stranger than fiction.

'Tis strange, but true: for truth is always strange;
Stranger than fiction.

Content is the philosopher's stone, that turns all it touches
into gold.

Content is the philosopher's stone, that turns all it touches
into gold.

Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil like bales unopen'd to the sun.

Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil like bales unopen'd to the sun.

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied read more

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

Let nothing offensive to the ear or the eye enter these
thresholds, within which youth dwells.

Let nothing offensive to the ear or the eye enter these
thresholds, within which youth dwells.

Praise none too much, for all are fickle.

Praise none too much, for all are fickle.

It is a most miserable lot to be without an enemy. [No man can
be successful without being envied read more

It is a most miserable lot to be without an enemy. [No man can
be successful without being envied and hated.]

They that know one another salute a farre off.

They that know one another salute a farre off.

The wine in the bottell doth not quench thirst.
[The wine in the bottle does not quench thirst.]

The wine in the bottell doth not quench thirst.
[The wine in the bottle does not quench thirst.]