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 20 behind. We are such stuff        
As dreams are made on, and our little life              
Is rounded with a sleep.

I no longer look for justice but for mercy.

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O, Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

But first, we must define Man (Or Woman).

I have of late—but wherefore I know not—lost all my mirth, foregone all custom of exercise; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! How infinte in faculty! In form and moving how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! In apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?