My soul is in the sky.

Lord Polonius: What do you read, my lord?
Hamlet: Words, words, words.
Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord?
Hamlet: Between who?
Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.

So wise so young, they say, do never live long.

The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.

Me, poor man, my library
Was dukedom large enough.

The Brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing, and think it were not night.