My happiness is not the means to any end. It is the end. It is its own goal. It is its own purpose.Neither am I the means to any ends others may wish to accomplish. I am not a tool for their use. I am not a servant of their needs. I am not a bandage for their wounds. I am not a sacrifice of their altars. (Chapter 11, paragraph 8)
That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself And falls on th’ other.
There is a tide in the affairs of men. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.
JACK: I will be back in a few moments, dear Canon. Gwendolen! Wait here for me! GWENDOLEN: If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.
If music be the food of love, play on. 1 Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, 2 The appetite may sicken and so die. 3 That strain again! It