William Shakespeare

Fear not the future, weep not for the past.

Fear not the future, weep not for the past.

Make me to see't; or at the least so prove it
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
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Make me to see't; or at the least so prove it
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
To hang a doubt on--or woe upon thy life!

He that is proud eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his
own trumpet, his own chronicle; and read more

He that is proud eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his
own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but
in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
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My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smothered in surmise and nothing is
But what is not.

Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
Thou mak'st thy knife keen; but no metal can--
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Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
Thou mak'st thy knife keen; but no metal can--
No, not the hangman's axe--bear half the keenness
Of thy sharp envy.