“The fault, dear Brutus, lies not in our stars, but in ourselves if we are underlings.”
“Do not let the tears fool you. She lied and cheated once, she will again. Your call to continue with the hurt.”
“Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.”
“I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it’s an enemy to thee.”
“Die? I should say not, dear fellow. No Barrymore would allow such a conventional thing to happen to him.”
“Dear me, Watson, is it possible that you have not penetrated the fact that the case hangs upon the missing dumb-bell?”
Arthur Conan Doyle Sr.
“I want to reassure you I am not this size, really - dear me no, I'm being amplified by the mike.”
G. K. Chesterton
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