The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.

Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens to the which our wills are gardeners.

Attack the evil that is within yourself, rather than attacking the evil that is in others.

... no one can ever save someone else, you know? We can only save ourselves. You know that, don't you?

This above all: to thine own self be true.

Because authority, though it err like others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself That skins the vice o' th' top; go to your bosom, Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know That's like my brother's fault; if it confess A natural guiltiness such as is his, Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother's life.