The grey-ey'd morn smiles on the frowning night Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.
Tis mightiest in the mightiest it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown His sceptre shows the force of temporal power The attribute to awe and majesty Wherein doth sit the dread and fe...
What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of th...
Give me my Romeo and when he shall die. Take him and cut him out in little stars And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to t...
Men have died from time to time and worms have eaten them - but not for love.
Such as we are made of such we be.
Every man has his fault and honesty is his.
I am dying Egypt dying.
I earn that I eat get that I wear owe no man hate envy no man's happiness glad of other men's good content with my harm.
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,Must give us pause
I know you all, and will awhile uphold the unyoked humour of your idleness . . .
Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
غداً، وغداً، وغداً،وكل غد يزحف بهذه الخطى الحقيرة يوماً إثر يومحتى المقطع الأخير من الزمن المكتوب،وإذا كل أماسينا قد أنارت للحمقى المساكينالطريق إلى الموت والتراب، ألا انطفئي، يا شمعةوجيزة!ما الحياة إ...
ساءت أفعالهم فقبحت بالناس ظنونهم.
Was an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the Bard of Avo...
Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp sauce.
You taught me language, and my profit on't / Is, I know how to curse
You lie, in faith; for you are call'd plain Kate, And bonny Kate and sometimes Kate the curst; But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom Kate of Kate Hall, my super-dainty Kate, For dainties are all...
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:It was the nightingale, and not the lark,That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear;Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree:Believe me, love, it was the n...