If now is the winter of our discontent, then thank God for global warming.

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark. And Afghanistan. 

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears! But only if it's a fixed rate.

The lady doth protest too much. Just like the rest of them.

This above all: to thine own self be true. Unless you are gay, black, or retarded.

I suppose there is a method in the madness. And the method is: fuck-all!

Our mind's eye? It has just one? That explains why none of us have any depth-perception. 

If brevity is the soul of wit, then why isn't Twitter very funny?

If a hamlet is a small rural community, and othello is a board game, then it stands to reason that falstaff is in an English brand of bacon. 

They say the world's an oyster. I suppose that explains why I work at Wal-Mart. I'm allergic to shellfish.

Yes, Hamlet, like all men you are easier to be played on than a pipe. No musical theory is involved. All you have to do is blow.

I am a man more sinned against than sinning. Get real, Bill. William. Whatever. Men like that are like unicorns: you only meet them on drug-trips, or in very bad video games.

If love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, then stupid folks are going to have a hard time with romance. Here's a tip for those lusty men with below-average IQs: don't kiss it if it has a tail or a mustache.

Shakespeare called it with this one: Cry "Havoc," and let slip the dogs of war. I wonder if he expected it would turn out as it has: Pit Bulls versus Pomeranians.

It t'was neither here nor there only because you didn't have GPS or Google Maps.

If all the world's a stage, it's no wonder all its actors are unemployed. There is no place for the audience to sit.

Of course there's small choice in rotten apples. Send them to Africa.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. In other words, herpes.