For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

You matter.

You ever-gentle gods, take my breath from me; Let not my worser spirit tempt me again To die before you please.

Why, he that cuts off twenty years of life Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine That cravens my weak hand.

Bravest at the last, She levelled at our purposes, and being royal, Took her own way.