Ideas are the very coinage of your brain.
A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain.
My brain more busy than the labouring spider Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain
Within the book and volume of thy brain...
I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.
My dull brain was wrought with things forgotten.
Thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.
They are hare-brain'd slaves.
Bear with my weakness. My old brain is troubled. Be not disturbed with my infirmity.
The brain may devise laws for the blood; but a hot temper leaps over a cold decree.
O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!" - Cassio (Act II, Scene iii)
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.
More of your conversation would infect my brain.
I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.
He was not so much brain as earwax
Memory, the warder of the brain.
Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
This is the very coinage of your brain: this bodiless creation ecstasy.
Oh God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!