"The Eyes are the window to your soul"
"Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs And then grace us in the disgrace of death; When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, Th' endeavor of this present breath may buy That honor which shall bate his scythe's keen edge And make us heirs of all eternity."
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Source: 'Love's Labour's Lost' (1595) act 1, sc. 1, l. 1
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