Hit the nail on the head.

All things that are Made for our general uses are at war,- Even we among ourselves.

I find the medicine worse than the malady.

Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow Which thy frozen bosom bears, On whose tops the pinks that grow Are of those that April wears! But first set my poor heart f…

If you can't be direct, why be?

I am not a man of etiquette, I don't know manners. I simply call a spade a fucking spade, because that's what it is.

For a story which is nat pleynli told, But constreynyd undir woordes fewe For lak off trouthe, wher thei be newe or olde, Men bi report kan nat the mater shewe.