Now, I feel that if somebody looks through all the numbers through all those years, they will find one for Julius Rosenberg, and it is worth finding if it is such an important issue.
In war, events of importance are the result of trivial causes.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
As he was valiant, I honour him. But as he was ambitious, I slew him.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
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.
Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!
When beggars die, there are no comets seen; the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
Let me have men about me that are fat... Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears.
Default is not in our stars, but in ourselves.
Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come
Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
He thinks too much. Such men are dangerous.
The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.
There is a time in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.
It is better to create than to learn! Creating is the essence of life.
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look
I love the name of honor, more than I fear death.
What we wish, we readily believe, and what we ourselves think, we imagine others think also.
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
There is a tide in the affairs of men
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