O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,That can sing both high and low:Trip no further, pretty sweeting;Journeys end in lovers meeting,Every wise man's son do...
No matter where; of comfort no man speak:Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;Make dust our paper and with rainy eyesWrite sorrow on the bosom of the earth,Let's choose executors and talk of w...
Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured is that the lunacy is soordinary that the whippe...
Life ... is a taleTold by an idiot, full of sound and fury,Signifying nothing.
Let us not burthen our remembrance withA heaviness that's gone.
LUCIUS. Art thou not sorry for these heinous deeds?AARON. Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.Even now I curse the day- and yet, I think,Few come within the compass of my curse-Wherein I did not s...
Keep time! How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives. I wasted time and now doth time waste me.
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead. . . . . . . . . . . .And breathed such life with kisses in my lipsThat I revived and was an emperor.
His jest shall savour but a shallow wit, when thousands more weep than did laugh it.
Get thee to a nunnery.
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him; The evil that men do lives after them, The good is oft interred with their bones, So let it be with Caesar ......
For I am born to tame you, Kate,And bring you from a wild Kate to a KateComfortable as other household Kates.
Fair is foul, and foul is fair.
April hath put a spirit of youth in everything. (Sonnet XCVIII)
Fraily thy name is woman!
To take arms against a sea of troubles.
When sorrows come they come not as single spies But in battalions!
There was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently.
The law hath not been dead though it hath slept.
And seeing ignorance is the curse of God Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.