“To be or not to be”: that is the sentence fragment.
If music be the food of love, then why the hell am I still so hungry?
In my salad days, when I was eating vegan.
The fault, Eddie Murphy, lies not within the stars, but in our scripts.
What brick through yonder window breaks?
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears at ten percent down and a fixed APR of 6.3 percent, subject to credit approval.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? No.
First Witch: When shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
Second Witch: Let’s wait until the weather’s a little nicer.
Third Apparition: Macbeth shall never vanquish’d be, until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him.
Macbeth: Gee, thanks for spoiling the ending.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? You are hot and sticky. You make me want a cold drink or two. You bring out the pesky flies. You are lazy. You make me feel like I ought to go outside and do some yardwork though I am looking for any excuse to put that off. You breed storminess. Indeed you seem to be getting thundery right now. On second thought, thee are nothing like a summer’s day. Please don’t get mad. I am sorry.
And gentlemen in England now abed
shall roll right back to sleep and think to themselves
“what crashing bore going on again about that”
when any speaks that fought here on Crispin’s day.