Day 1:

Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day – Macbeth

Day 2:

“All the world’s a stage, 
And all the men and women merely players; 
They have their exits and their entrances; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages.” – As you like it

Day 3:

O, pardon! since a crooked figure may
Attest in little place a million;
And let us, ciphers to this great accompt,
On your imaginary forces work. – Henry V

Day 4:

“How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.” – The Merchant of Venice

Day 5:

“Live a little; comfort a little; cheer thyself a little” – As you like it

Day 6:

I know you all, and will awhile uphold
The unyoked humour of your idleness.
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wondered at
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But when they seldom come, they wished-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off
And pay the debt I never promisèd,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes;
And like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glitt’ring o’er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I’ll so offend to make offence a skill,
Redeeming time when men think least I will. – Henry IV Part I

Day 7:

“An’ can you by no drift of conference
Get from him why he puts on this confusion,
Grating so harshly all his days of quiet
With turbulent and dangerous lunacy?” – Hamlet

Day 8:

“If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches and poor men’s cottages princes’ palaces.” – the Merchant of Venice

Day 9:

Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

Day 10:

o matter where; of comfort no man speak:
Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth,
Let’s choose executors and talk of wills:
And yet not so, for what can we bequeath
Save our deposed bodies to the ground? – Richard II