None of us can stand other people having the same faults as ourselves.
And the wild regrets and the bloody sweats None knew so well as I: That he who lives more lives than one, More deaths than one shall die.
And the wild regrets, and the bloody sweats, none knew so well as I: for he who lives more lives than one more deaths than one must die.
Charity, dear Miss Prism, charity! None of us are perfect. I myself am peculiarly susceptible to draughts.