William Shakespeare

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

Brevity is the soul of wit.

To be, or not to be: that is the question.

The quality of mercy is not strained.

I am sick when I do look on thee.

Away thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant.

You have a February face, so full of frost, of storm and cloudiness.

Out of my sight! Thou dost infect my eyes.

What, you egg?

Thou art a very ragged wart.

How now, thou crusty batch of nature! What's the news?

Away, you mouldy rogue, away!

A most notable coward, an infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise breaker, the owner of no one good quality.

Away, you starvelling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's-tongue, bull's-pizzle, you stock-fish!

Away, you three-inch fool!

Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.

There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune.

I do desire we may be better strangers.

I do wish thou wert a dog, that I might love thee something.

I wonder that you will still be talking. Nobody marks you.