What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
She's so conjunctive to my life and soul That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, I could not but by her.
I bear a charmed life.
Simply the thing I am shall make me live.
But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.
The soul of this man is in his clothes.