We all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh; few are angels.

Nobody's perfect. We're all just one step up from the beasts and one step down from the angels.

All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.

... one flaw throws the loveliness of [everything else] into focus. I remember reading that Shakers deliberately introduced a mistake into the things they made, to show that man shouldn't aspire to the perfection of God. Flawed can be more perfect than perfection.

Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we: For such as we are made of, such we be

They are so frail humans. So easily crumpled and broken, like flower petals under foot.