William Shakespeare

The wheel is come full circle: I am here.

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow!

I am a man more sinned against than sinning.

Nothing will come of nothing.

As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.

Ignorance is the curse of God; knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.

How many ages hence shall this our lofty scene be acted over in states unborn and accents yet unknown!

The game’s afoot: follow your spirit.

But man, proud man, dressed in a little brief authority.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.