Ophelia

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. 

Soft you now,
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remembered.

Hamlet (Act 3, Scene 1)
William Shakespeare

Opheila by John William Waterhouse