Most friendship is feigning$$$ most loving mere folly.

Under the greenwood tree$$$Who loves to lie with meAnd tune his merry note$$$Unto the sweet bird's throat;Come hither$$$ come hither$$$ come hither.Here shall he seeNo enemyBut winter and rough weather.

The fool doth think he is wise$$$ but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.

All the world's a stage.

I pray you$$$ do not fall in love with me$$$ for I am falser than vows made in wine.

Love is merely a madness; and$$$ I tell you$$$ deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured is that the lunacy is soordinary that the whippers are in love too.

How quickly the dead faded into each other$$$

Now and then$$$ an inch below the water's surface$$$ the muscles of his stomach tightened involuntarily as he recalled another detail. A drop of water on her upper arm. Wet. An embroidered flower$$$ a simple daisy$$$ sewn between the cups of her bra. Her breasts wide apart and small. On her back$$$ a mole half covered by a strap. When she climbed out of the pond a glimpse of the triangular darkness her knickers were supposed to conceal. Wet. He saw it$$$ he made himself see it again.

Every secret of the body was rendered up--bone risen through flesh$$$ sacrilegious glimpses of an intestine or an optic nerve. From this new and intimate perspective$$$ [Briony] learned a simple$$$ obvious thing she had always known$$$ and everyone knew: that a person is$$$ among all else$$$ a material thing$$$ easily torn$$$ not easily mended.

It is quite impossible these days to assume anything about people's educational level from the way they talk or dress or from their taste in music. Safest to treat everyone you meet as a distinguished intellectual.