William Shakespeare

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last read more

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Why, then the world's mine oyster,
Which I with sword will open.

Why, then the world's mine oyster,
Which I with sword will open.

Trifles light as air
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ.

Trifles light as air
Are to the jealous confirmations strong
As proofs of holy writ.

Two starving men cannot be twice as hungry as one; but two
rascals can be ten times as vicious read more

Two starving men cannot be twice as hungry as one; but two
rascals can be ten times as vicious as one.