I bear a charmed life.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Thine own life's means!
Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.
O gentlemen! the time of life is short; To spend that shortness basely were too long, If life did ride upon a dial's point, Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, Where death's approach is seen so terrible!
Be still prepared for death: and death or life shall thereby be the sweeter.
Oh, Lord, who lends me life, lend me a heart replete with thankfulness.
We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our own virtues.
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