Life every man holds dear; but the dear man holds honor far more precious dear than life.
Life is as tedious as twice-told tale, vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.
Listen to many, speak to a few.
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