“ Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving, William Shakespeare
“ Thou art the thing itself: unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor bare, forked animal as thou art. William Shakespeare
“ Olivia: What's a drunken man like, fool?Feste: Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman: one draught above heat makes him a fool; the second mads him; and a third drowns him. William Shakespeare
“ That in the captain's but a choleric word,Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. William Shakespeare
“ Let us revenge this withour pikes, ere we become rakes: for the gods know Ispeak this in hunger for bread, not in thirst for revenge. William Shakespeare
“ Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her, But Romeo may not. William Shakespeare
“ GLOUCESTERNow, good sir, what are you?EDGARA most poor man made tame to fortune's blows,Who by the art of known and feeling sorrowsAm pregnant to good pity. William Shakespeare
“ Never durst a poet touch a pen to writeUntil his ink was tempered with love's sighs. William Shakespeare
“ Those lips that Love's own hand did makeBreathed forth the sound that said, 'I hate'To me that languished for her sake,But, when she saw my woeful state,Straight in her heart did mercy come,Chiding th… William Shakespeare
“ ..What our contempt often hurls from us,We wish it our again; the present pleasure,By revolution lowering,does becomeThe opposite of itself.. William Shakespeare
“ An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge of a star! William Shakespeare
“ Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow worldLike a Colossus, and we petty menWalk under his huge legs and peep aboutTo find ourselves dishonorable graves.Men at some time are masters of their fates.The… William Shakespeare
“ Each new mornNew widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrowsStrike heaven on the face, that it resoundsAs if it felt with Scotland, and yelled outLike syllable of dolor. William Shakespeare
“ I should think this a gull, but that the white-bearded fellow speaks it; knavery cannot, sure, hide himself in such reverence. William Shakespeare
