William Shakespeare

How many cowards whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
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How many cowards whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who inward searched, have livers white as milk!

So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that read more

So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not wear them.

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. -King Henry read more

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. -Much Ado read more

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1.

He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a read more

He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.