William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
Mine eyes
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor read more
Mine eyes
Were not in fault, for she was beautiful;
Mine ears, that heard her flattery; nor my heart,
That thought her like her seeming. It had been vicious
To have mistrusted her.
I fear it is too choleric a meat.
How say you to a fat tripe finely broiled?
I fear it is too choleric a meat.
How say you to a fat tripe finely broiled?
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more devils than read more
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact.
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;
That is the madman. The lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt.
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
Brevity is the soul of wit.
All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more read more
All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 2.
He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it read more
He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.
And wilt thou still be hammering treachery
To tumble down thy husband and thyself
From top of read more
And wilt thou still be hammering treachery
To tumble down thy husband and thyself
From top of honor to disgrace's feet?
Discomfort guides my tongue
And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
Discomfort guides my tongue
And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
So our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time
So our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time
