A man's silence is wonderful to listen to. Though a good deal is too strange to be believed, nothing is too strange to have happened.
All is not well. I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come! Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes. Hamlet, Act I, Scene 2
All's oblique; there's nothing level in our cursed natures but direct villainy. Therefore be abhorred all feasts, societies, and throngs of men!
Our Italy Shines o'er with civil swords; Sextus Pompeius Makes his approaches to the port of Rome; Equality of two domestic powers Breeds scrupulous faction; the hated, grown to strength, Are newly grown to love; the condemned Pompey, Rich in this father's honor, creeps apace Into the hearts of such as have not thrived Upon the present state, whose numbers threaten; And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge By any desperate change.
Rather let my head Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any Save to the God of heaven and to my king.