William Shakespeare

A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. read more

A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. Sc. 8.

Why, universal plodding poisons up
The nimble spirits in the arteries,
As motion and long-during action tires
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Why, universal plodding poisons up
The nimble spirits in the arteries,
As motion and long-during action tires
The sinewy vigor of the traveller.

Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.

Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.

I charge thee, Satan, housed within this man,
To yield possession to my holy prayers,
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I charge thee, Satan, housed within this man,
To yield possession to my holy prayers,
And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight.
I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven.

Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkercher about your brows--
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Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkercher about your brows--
The best I had, a princess wrought it me--
And I did never ask it you again;
And with my hand at midnight held your head,
And like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheered up the heavy time,
Saying, 'What lack you?' and 'Where lies your grief?'