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There's Nothing Situate Under Heaven's Eye But Hath His Bond In Earth, In Sea, In Sky. The Beasts, The Fishes, And The Winged Fowls Are Their Males' Subjects And At Their Controls. Man, More Divine, The Master Of All These, Lord Of The Wide World And Wild Wat'ry Seas, Indu'd With Intellectual Sense And Souls, Of More Pre-eminence Than Fish And Fowls, Are Masters To Their Females, And Their Lords; Then Let Your Will Attend On Their Accords.

-William Shakespeare

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There's Nothing Situate Under

William Shakespeare

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There's Nothing Situate Under Heaven's Eye But Hath His Bond In Earth, In Sea, In Sky. The Beasts, The Fishes, And The Winged Fowls Are Their Males' Subjects And At Their Controls. Man, More Divine, The Master Of All These, Lord Of The Wide World And Wild Wat'ry Seas, Indu'd With Intellectual Sense And Souls, Of More Pre-eminence Than Fish And Fowls, Are Masters To Their Females, And Their Lords; Then Let Your Will Attend On Their Accords.

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There Is A Tide In The Affairs Of Men, Which Taken At The Flood, Leads On To Fortune. Omitted, All The Voyage Of Their Life Is Bound In Shallows And In Miseries. On Such A Full Sea Are We Now Afloat. And We Must Take The Current When It Serves, Or Lose Our Ventures.

A Substitute Shines Brightly As A King Until A King Be By, And Then His State Empties Itself, As Dot An Inland Brook Into The Main Of Waters.

He Doth Nothing But Talk Of His Horses.

Tis Gold Which Buys Admittance--oft It Doth--yea, And Makes Diana's Rangers False Themselves, Yield Up This Deer To Th' Stand O' Th' Stealer: And 'tis Gold Which Makes The True Man Kill'd And Saves The Thief, Nay, Sometimes Hangs Both Thief And True Man.

All Lovers Swear More Performance Than They Are Able, And Yet Reserve An Ability That They Never Perform; Vowing More Than The Perfection Of Ten, And Discharging Less Than The Tenth Part Of One.

Patch Grief With Proverbs.

If She Lives Till Doomsday, She'll Burn A Week Longer Than The Whole World.

Beauty Is Bought By Judgement Of The Eye.

Beautiful Women

Cowards Die Many Times Before Their Deaths; The Valiant Never Taste Of Death But Once.

Many That Are Not Mad Have, Sure, More Lack Of Reason.

Thou Hast Most Traitorously Corrupted The Youth Of The Realm In Erecting A Grammar School.

Women Are Angels, Wooing: Things Won Are Done; Joy's Soul Lies In The Doing: That She Beloved Knows Naught, That Knows Not This-- Men Prize The Thing Ungained More Than It Is.

Why, Thou Deboshed Fish Thou...wilt Thou Tell A Monstrous Lie, Being But Half A Fish And Half A Monster?

Tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich.

Dead Shepherd, Now I Find Thy Saw Of Might. Whoever Lov'd That Lov'd Not At First Sight.

O, Men's Vows Are Women's Traitors! All Good Seeming, By Thy Revolt, O Husband, Shall Be Thought Put On For Villainy, Not Born Where't Grows, But Worn A Bait For Ladies.

I Love Thee; None But Thee, And Thou Deservest It

As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.

How Much An Ill Word May Empoison Liking!

What Win I, If I Gain The Thing I Seek? A Dream, A Breath, A Froth Of Fleeting Joy. Who Buys A Minute's Mirth To Wail A Week? Or Sells Eternity To Get A Toy? For One Sweet Grape Who Will The Vine Destroy? Or What Fond Beggar, But To Touch The Crown, Would With The Sceptre Straight Be Strucken Down?

I That Please Some, Try All, Both Joy And Terror Of Good And Bad, That Makes And Unfolds Error.

To Stand Against The Deep Dread-bolted Thunder, In The Most Terrible And Nimble Stroke Of Quick, Cross Lightning.

Such An Act That Blurs The Grace And Blush Of Modesty; Calls Virtue Hypocrite; Takes Off The Rose From The Fair Forehead Of An Innocent Love, And Sets A Blister There; Makes Marriage Vows As False As Dicers' Oaths.

Conscience Is A Thousand Swords.

Come, Woo Me, Woo Me, For Now I Am In A Holiday Humor, And Like Enough To Consent.

Fair, Kind, And True, Have Often Lived Alone.

Love, Which Teacheth Me That Thou And I Am One

Nimble Thought Can Jump Both Sea And Land.

O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write, Knowing A Better Spirit Doth Use Your Name, And In The Praise Thereof Spends All His Might To Make Me Tongue-tied Speaking Of Your Fame.

Presume Not That I Am The Thing I Was.

I Do I Know Not What, And Fear To Find Mine Eye Too Great A Flatterer For My Mind. Fate, Show Thy Force. Ourselves We Do Not Owe. What Is Decreed Must Be; And Be This So.

What Power Is It Which Mounts My Love So High, That Makes Me See, And Cannot Feed Mine Eye

Unnatural Deeds Do Breed Unnatural Troubles.

For What Good Turn? Messenger: For The Best Turn Of The Bed.

When I Got Enough Confidence, The Stage Was Gone. When I Was Sure Of Losing, I Won. When I Needed People The Most, They Left Me. When I Learnt To Dry My Tears, I Found A Shoulder To Cry On. And When I Mastered The Art Of Hating, Somebody Started Loving Me.

A Ministering Angel Shall My Sister Be.

O No, Thy Love Though Much, Is Not So Great, It Is My Love That Keeps Mine Eye Awake, Mine Own True Love That Doth My Rest Defeat, To Play The Watchman Ever For Thy Sake. For Thee Watch I, Whilst Thou Dost Wake Elsewhere, From Me Far Off, With Others All Too Near.

Now Would I Give A Thousand Furlongs Of Sea For An Acre Of Barren Ground.

That Which In Mean Men We Entitle Patience Is Pale Cold Cowardice In Noble Breasts.

Let Us Not Burden Our Remembrances With A Heaviness That's Gone.

A Pox O’ Your Throat, You Bawling, Blasphemous, Incharitable Dog!

He Kills Her In Her Own Humor.

Taming Of The Shrew

Honor, Riches, Marriage-blessing Long Continuance, And Increasing, Hourly Joys Be Still Upon You!

Children Wish Fathers Looked But With Their Eyes; Fathers That Children With Their Judgment Looked; And Either May Be Wrong.

No Place Indeed Should Murder Sanctuarize; Revenge Should Have No Bounds.

I Scorn You, Scurvy Companion.

I'll Never Be Such A Gosling To Obey Instinct, But Stand As Is A Man Were Author Of Himself And Knew No Other Kin.

Have Not Saints Lips, And Holy Palmers Too Ay, Pilgrim, Lips That They Must Use In Prayer.

God Bless Thee; And Put Meekness In Thy Breast, Love, Charity, Obedience, And True Duty!

He Does Me Double Wrong That Wounds Me With The Flatteries Of His Tongue.

Few Love To Hear The Sins They Love To Act.

Why Should We Rise Because 'tis Light? Did We Lie Down Because T'was Night?

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? Thou Art More Lovely And More Temperate: Rough Winds Do Shake The Darling Buds Of May, And Summer's Lease Hath All Too Short A Date . . .

I Pray You, Do Not Fall In Love With Me, For I Am Falser Than Vows Made In Wine.

My Stronger Guilt Defeats My Strong Intent.

O Heresy In Fair, Fit For These Days, A Giving Hand, Though Foul, Shall Have Fair Praise.

I Feel It Gone, Yet Know Not When It Left.

He That Loves To Be Flattered Is Worthy O' The Flatterer.

It Is The Witness Still Of Excellency To Put A Strange Face On His Own Perfection.

By The Apostle Paul, Shadows Tonight Have Struck More Terror To The Soul Of Richard Than Can The Substance Of Ten Thousand Soldiers.

The Words Of Mercury Are Harsh After The Songs Of Apollo.

Well, In That Hit You Miss. She'll Not Be Hit With Cupid's Arrow. She Hath Dian's Wit, And, In Strong Proff Of Chastity Well Armed, From Love's Weak Childish Bow She Lives Uncharmed. She Will Not Stay The Siege Of Loving Terms, Nor Bide Th' Encounter Of Assailing Eyes, Nor Ope Her Lap To Saint-seducing Gold. O, She Is Rich In Beauty; Only Poor That, When She Dies, With Dies Her Store. Act 1,scene 1, Lines 180-197

Now All The Youth Of England Are On Fire, And Silken Dalliance In The Wardrobe Lies; Now Thrive The Armorers, And Honor's Thought Reigns Solely In The Breast Of Every Man.

Fie, Thou Dishonest Satan! I Call Thee By The Most Modest Terms; For I Am One Of Those Gentle Ones That Will Use The Devil Himself With Courtesy: Sayest Thou That House Is Dark?

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Ears; I Come To Bury Caesar, Not To Praise Him.

No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead Than You Shall Hear The Surly Sullen Bell Give Warning To The World That I Am Fled From This Vile World With Vilest Worms To Dwell: Nay, If You Read This Line, Remember Not The Hand That Writ It, For I Love You So, That I In Your Sweet Thoughts Would Be Forgot, If Thinking On Me Then Should Make You Woe. O! If, I Say, You Look Upon This Verse When I Perhaps Compounded Am With Clay, Do Not So Much As My Poor Name Rehearse; But Let Your Love Even With My Life Decay; Lest The Wise World Should Look Into Your Moan, And Mock You With Me After I Am Gone.

Old Time The Clock-setter.

There's No Trust, No Faith, No Honesty In Men; All Perjured, All Forsworn, All Naught, All Dissemblers.

The Setting Sun, And The Music At The Close, As The Last Taste Of Sweets, Is Sweetest Last, Writ In Rememberance More Than Long Things Past.

For By His Face Straight Shall You Know His Heart.

Hal, If I Tell Thee A Lie, Spit In My Face, Call Me Horse.

If You Have Tears, Prepare To Shed Them Now.

This Thing Of Darkness I Acknowlege Mine. There Is Nothing More Confining Than The Prison We Don't Know We Are In.

I Wasted Time, And Now Doth Time Waste Me.

Beshrew That Heart That Makes My Heart To Groan For That Deep Wound It Gives My Friend And Me; Is't Not Enough To Torture Me Alone, But Slave To Slavery My Sweet'st Friend Must Be?

I Heard A Bird So Sing, Whose Music, To My Thinking, Pleased The King.

[s]ince Brevity Is The Soul Of Wit, And Tediousness The Limbs And Outward Flourishes, I Will Be Brief.

Important Hamlet

Yet Writers Say, As In The Sweetest Bud The Eating Canter Dwells, So Eating Love Inhabits In The Finest Wits Of All.

He That Is Thy Friend Indeed, He Will Help You In Your Need.

Love's Fire Heats Water, Water Cools Not Love.

The Dear Father Would With His Daughter Speak, Commands Her Service; Are They Inform'd Of This?

Thus Did I Keep My Person Fresh And New, My Presence, Like A Robe Pontifical, Ne'er Seen But Wondered At, And So My State, Seldom But Sumptuous, Showed Like A Feast.

Now The Time Is Come, That France Must Veil Her Lofty-plumed Crest, And Let Her Head Fall Into England's Lap.

Should The Poor Be Flattered? No; Let The Candied Tongue Lick Absurd Pomp, And Crook The Pregnant Hinges Of The Knee Where Thrift May Follow Fawning.

When The Age Is In, The Wit Is Out

What Is Past Is Prologue.

You Must Not Think That We Are Made Of Stuff So Fat And Dull That We Can Let Our Beard Be Shook With Danger And Think It Pastime.

Is Man No More Than This? Consider Him Well. Thou Ow'st The Worm No Silk, The Beast No Hide, The Sheep No Wool, The Cat No Perfume. Here's Three On's Are Sophisticated. Thou Art The Thing Itself; Unaccommodated Man Is No More Than Such A Poor, Bare, Forked Animal As Thou Art.

Hot Lavender, Mints, Savory, Marjoram; The Marigold, That Goes To Bed Wi' The Sun, And With Him Rise Weeping.

Mercy Is Not Itself, That Oft Looks So; Pardon Is Still The Nurse Of Second Woe.

Benvolio: What Sadness Lengthens Romeo's Hours? Romeo: Not Having That, Which, Having, Makes Them Short.

A Man Cannot Make Him Laugh - But That's No Marvel; He Drinks No Wine.

Death Makes No Conquest Of This Conqueror: For Now He Lives In Fame, Though Not In Life.

Minutes, Hours, Days, Months, And Years, Pass'd Over To The End They Were Created, Would Bring White Hairs Unto A Quiet Grave. Ah, What A Life Were This!

O, Then, What Graces In My Love Do Dwell, That He Hath Turn'd A Heaven Unto Hell

A Hundred Thousand Welcomes: I Could Weep, And I Could Laugh; I Am Light And Heavy: Welcome.

Speak, What Trade Art Thou? Why, Sir, A Carpenter. Where Is Thy Leather Apron And Thy Rule? What Does Thou With Thy Best Apparel On?

How Far That Little Candle Throws Its Beams! So Shines A Good Deed In A Naughty World.

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 So Ordinary That The Whippers Are In Love Too.

To Be Merry Best Becomes You; For, Out Of Question, You Were Born In A Merry Hour.

The Painful Warrior Famous For Fight, After A Thousand Victories, Once Foil'd, Is From The Books Of Honor Razed Quite, And All The Rest Forgot For Which He Toil'd

Like The Lily That Once Was Mistress Of The Field And Flourished, I'll Hang My Head And Perish.

So Doth The Greater Glory Dim The Less: A Substitute Shines Brightly As A King Until A King Be By.

By Heaven, I Do Love: And It Hath Taught Me To Rhyme, And To Be Mekancholy.

A Young Woman In Love Always Looks Like Patience On A Monument Smiling At Grief

O, Call Back Yesterday, Bid Time Return

Look How The World's Poor People Are Amazed At Apparitions, Signs And Prodigies!

Tis In My Memory Lock'd, And You Yourself Shall Keep The Key Of It.

They Say Miracles Are Past.

For I Am Nothing If Not Critical.

How Ill White Hairs Become A Fool And Jester!

Then Let Thy Love Be Younger Than Thyself, Or Thy Affection Cannot Hold The Bent.

This We Prescribe, Though No Physician; Deep Malice Makes Too Deep Incision; Forget, Forgive; Conclude And Be Agreed; Our Doctors Say This Is No Month To Bleed.

That We Would Do We Should Do When We Would, For This 'would' Changes, And Hath Abatements And Delays As Many As There Are Tongues, Are Hands, Are Accidents, And Then This 'should' Is Like A Spendthrift Sigh, That Hurts By Easing.

Leave Us To Our Free Election.

I Am Asham'd That Women Are So Simple To Offer War Where They Should Kneel For Peace.

Do You Take Me For A Sponge, My Lord? Hamlet: Ay, Sir; That Soaks Up The King's Countenance, His Rewards, His Authorities. But Such Officers Do The King Best Service In The End: He Keeps Them, Like An Ape, In The Corner Of His Jaw; First Mouthed, To Be Last Swallowed: When He Needs What You Have Gleaned, It Is But Squeezing You, And, Sponge, You Shall Be Dry Again. Rosencrantz: I Understand You Not, My Lord. Hamlet: I Am Glad Of It: A Knavish Speech Sleeps In A Foolish Ear.

Weariness Can Snore Upon The Flint When Resting Sloth Finds The Down Pillow Hard.

Hang Those That Talk Of Fear.

I Bear A Charmed Life, Which Must Not Yield To One Of Woman Born.

This Thought Is As A Death.

Love Adds A Precious Seeing To The Eye.

Farewell The Plumed Troop, And The Big Wars That Make Ambition Virtue! O, Farewell! Farewell The Neighing Steed And The Shrill Trump, The Spirit-stirring Drum, Th' Ear-piercing Fife, The Royal Banner, And All Quality, Pride, Pomp, And Circumstance Of Glorious War!

All The World's A Stage, And All The Men And Women Merely Players: They Have Their Exits And Their Entrances; And One Man In His Time Plays Many Parts, His Acts Being Seven Ages.

Why, What Should Be The Fear? I Do Not Set My Life At A Pin's Fee.

Denmark In Hamlet

Hamlet And Ophelia

Swear Me, Kate, Like A Lady As Thou Art, A Good Mouth-filling Oath.

If The Boy Have Not A Woman's Gift To Rain A Shower Of Commanded Tears, An Onion Will Do Well For Such A Shift.

What Infinite Heart's-ease Must Kings Neglect That Private Men Enjoy! And What Have Kings That Privates Have Not Too, Save Ceremony, Save General Ceremony?

That Truth Should Be Silent I Had Almost Forgot. (enobarbus)

And What’s He Then That Says I Play The Villain?

Don Pedro - (...)'in Time The Savage Bull Doth Bear The Yoke.' Benedick - The Savage Bull May, But If Ever The Sensible Benedick Bear It, Pluck Off The Bull's Horns And Set Them In My Forehead, And Let Me Be Vildly Painted; And In Such Great Letters As They Writes, 'here Is Good Horse For Hire', Let Them Signify Under My Sign, 'here You May See Benedick The Married Man.

They Say Best Men Are Molded Out Of Faults, And, For The Most, Become Much More The Better For Being A Little Bad

But She Makes Hungry Where She Most Satisfies.

'tis Thought The King Is Dead; We Will Not Stay. The Bay Trees In Our Country Are All Wither'd.

What A Pretty Thing Man Is When He Goes In His Doublet And Hose And Leaves Off His Wit!

But Virtue Never Will Be Mov'd, Though Lewdness Court It In A Shape Of Heaven.

If Thou Remeber'st Not The Slightest Folly That Ever Love Did Make Thee Run Into, Thou Hast Not Lov'd

And Therefore, — Since I Cannot Prove A Lover, To Entertain These Fair Well-spoken Days, — I Am Determined To Prove A Villain, And Hate The Idle Pleasures Of These Days.

You Take My Life When You Do Take The Means Whereby I Live

I Do Not Know What Kind Of My Obedience I Should Tender. More Than My All Is Nothing; Nor My Prayers Are Not Words Holy Hallowed, Nor My Wishes More Worth Than Empty Vanities; Yet Prayers And Wishes Are All I Can Return.

And Then He Drew A Dial From His Poke, And Looking With Lack-lustre Eye, Says Very Wisely, 'it Is Ten O'clock: Thus We May See', Quoth He, 'how The World Wags: 'tis But An Hour Ago Since It Was Nine, And After One Hour More 'twill Be Eleven; And So From Hour To Hour We Ripe And Ripe, And Then From Hour To Hour We Rot And Rot.

When That Churl Death My Bones With Dust Shall Cover.

And Makes Me Poor Indeed.

Hot Blood Begets Hot Thoughts, And Hot Thoughts Beget Hot Deeds, And Hot Deeds Is Love.

Sir, The Year Growing Ancient, Not Yet On Summer's Death Nor On The Birth Of Trembling Winter, The Fairest Flowers O' Th' Season Are Our Carnations And Streaked Gillyvors, Which Some Call Nature's Bastards.

Therefore The Moon, The Governess Of Floods, Pale In Her Anger Washes All The Air, That Rheumatic Diseases Do Abound; And Through This Distemperature We See The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose.

Drink, Sir, Is A Great Provoker Of Three Things . . . Nose-painting, Sleep, And Urine. Lechery, Sir, It Provokes, And Unprovokes; It Provokes The Desire, But It Takes Away The Performance.

Adversity's Sweet Milk, Philosophy.

If We Are True To Ourselves, We Can Not Be False To Anyone.

How Much More Doth Beauty Beauteous Seem By That Sweet Ornament Which Truth Doth Give!

As In A Theatre, The Eyes Of Men, After A Well-graced Actor Leaves The Stage, Are Idly Bent On Him That Enters Next.

This Fellow Pecks Up Wit, As Pigeons Peas; And Utters It Again When God Doth Please: He Is Wit's Pedler; And Retails His Wares.

From You Have I Been Absent In The Spring, When Proud Pied April, Dressed In All His Trim, Hath Put A Spirit Of Youth In Every Thing.

Lord Polonius: What Do You Read, My Lord? Hamlet: Words, Words, Words. Lord Polonius: What Is The Matter, My Lord? Hamlet: Between Who? Lord Polonius: I Mean, The Matter That You Read, My Lord.

I Thank You All And Here Dismiss You All, And To The Love And Favor Of My Country Commit Myself, My Person, And The Cause.

What The Great Ones Do, The Less Will Prattle Of

She's Beautiful, And Therefore To Be Wooed; She Is A Woman, Therefore To Be Won.

Thou Slave, Thou Wretch, Thou Coward! Thou Little Valiant, Great In Villainy! Thou Ever Strong Upon The Stronger Side! Thou Fortune's Champion, That Dost Never Fight But Where Her Humorous Ladyship Is By To Teach Thee Safety.

Adversity Makes Strange Bedfellows.

Strange Bedfellows

This Was The Noblest Roman Of Them All. All The Conspirators, Save Only He,did That They Did In Envy Of Caesar;he Only, In A General Honest Thoughtand Common Good To All, Made One Of Them. His Life Was Gentle, And The Elementsso Mixd In Him That Nature Might Stand Upand Say To All The World, This Was A Man!

What, Keep A Week Away? Seven Days And Nights, Eightscore-eight Hours, And Lovers' Absent Hours More Tedious Than The Dial Eightscore Times! O Weary Reckoning!

O! For A Muse Of Fire, That Would Ascend The Brightest Heaven Of Invention.

Heaven Would That She These Gifts Should Have, And I To Live And Die Her Slave.

Whether 'tis Nobler In The Mind To Suffer The Slings And Arrows Of Outrageous Fortune, Or To Take Arms Against A Sea Of Troubles, And By Opposing End Them?

There Is No More Mercy In Him Than There Is Milk In A Male Tiger.

The Eye Of Man Hath Not Heard, The Ear Of Man Hath Not Seen, Man's Hand Is Not Able To Taste, His Tongue To Conceive, Nor His Heart To Report, What My Dream Was.

Nothing Can Seem Foul To Those Who Win.

Have Patience, And Endure

Our Holy Lives Must Win A New World's Crown.

Love All, Trust A Few, Do Wrong To None: Be Able For Thine Enemy Rather In Power Than Use; And Keep Thy Friend Under Thy Own Life's Key: Be Check'd For Silence, But Never Tax'd For Speech.

Seek Happy Nights To Happy Days.w

Romeo And Juliet Play

Fortune Is Painted Blind, With A Muffler Afore Her Eyes, To Signify To You That Fortune Is Blind.

Hung Be The Heavens With Black! Yield, Day, To Night!

Death, As The Psalmist Saith, Is Certain To All, All Shall Die.

For Where Thou Art, There Is The World Itself, With Every Several Pleasure In The World, And Where Thou Art Not, Desolation.

I Go, I Go, Look How I Go, Swifter Than An Arrow From A Bow

Be Like You Thought Our Love Would Last Too Long, If It Were Chain'd Together

My Love Is Deep; The More I Give To Thee, The More I Have, Both Are Infinite.

Orpheus With His Lute Made Trees, And The Mountain Tops That Freeze, Bow Themselves, When He Did Sing; To His Music, Plants And Flowers Ever Sprung; As Sun And Showers There Had Made A Lasting Spring. Every Thing That Heard Him Play, Even The Billows Of The Sea, Hung Their Heads, And Then Lay By. In Sweet Music Is Such Art, Killing Care And Grief Of Heart Fall Asleep, Or Hearing, Die.

When Truth Kills Truth, O Devilish Holy Fray!

Where Every Something, Being Blent Together Turns To A Wild Of Nothing.

No Villainous Bounty Yet Hath Passed My Heart; Unwisely, Not Ignobly, Have I Given.

His Jest Will Savour But Of Shallow Wit, When Thousands Weep, More Than Did Laugh At It.

The Fringed Curtains Of Thine Eye Advance, And Say What Thou Seest Yond.

Gonzalo From Tempest

So Many Hours Must I Take My Rest; So Many Hours Must I Contemplate.

A Very Little Thief Of Occasion Will Rob You Of A Great Deal Of Patience.

Your "if" Is The Only Peacemaker; Much Virtue In "if.

A Smile Cures The Wounding Of A Frown.

An Habitation Giddy And Unsure Hath He That Buildeth On The Vulgar Heart.

The World Is Not Thy Friend, Nor The World's Law. - Romeo

This Is The Very Ecstasy Of Love.

Important Hamlet

Pain Pays The Income Of Each Precious Thing.

Courage Mounteth With Occasion.

I Will Chide No Breather In The World But Myself, Against Whom I Know Most Faults.

And Nothing Is, But What Is Not.

Darkness In Macbeth

Love Thyself Last, Cherish Those Hearts That Hate Thee; Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty.

To Climb Steep Hills Requires A Slow Pace At First.

Lawn As White As Driven Snow; Cyprus Black As E'er Was Crow; Gloves As Sweet As Damask Roses.

O God, I Could Be Bound In A Nutshell, And Count Myself A King Of Infinite Space – Were It Not That I Have Bad Dreams.

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