Now is the Winter of our discontent.
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.
n sooth, I know not why I am so sad:It wearies me; you say it wearies you;But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,I am to learn;And such a want-wit sad...
To hell, allegiance! Vows, to the blackest devil!Conscience and grace, to the profoundest pit!I dare damnation
silence is not a langauge, its a weapon to make your dear one to feel
Travellers ne'er did lie,Though fools at home condemn 'em.-Antonio
There is nothing in the world so much like prayer as music is. ~William Shakespeare
Give thanks for what you are today and go on fighting for what you gone be tomorrow
O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another.
Your cause of sorrow must not be measured by his worth, for then it hath no end.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to sufferThe slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,And by opposing end them?
We burn daylight.
Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
Thou shouldst not have been old till thou hadst been wise.
Thou shalt be freeAs mountain winds: but then exactly doAll points of my command.
This is the excellent foppery of the world, that,when we are sick in fortune,--often the surfeitof our own behavior,--we make guilty of ourdisasters the sun, the moon, and the stars: asif we were vill...
This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
There's a divinity that shapes our ends,Rough-hew them how we will.