William Shakespeare

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied read more

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

Never waste jealousy on a real man: it is the imaginary man that
supplants us all in the long read more

Never waste jealousy on a real man: it is the imaginary man that
supplants us all in the long run.

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
read more

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man
That ever lived in the tide of times.
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!

The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark
When neither is attended; and I think
The read more

The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark
When neither is attended; and I think
The nightingale, if she should sing by day
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many thing by season seasoned are
To their right praise and true perfection!

She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd She is a woman, therefore to be won

She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd She is a woman, therefore to be won