"The Eyes are the window to your soul"
"The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burrs, Losing both beauty and utility."
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Source: 'Henry V' (1599) act 5, sc. 2, l. 44
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