William Shakespeare ( 10 of 368 )
By that sin fell the angels.
By that sin fell the angels.
Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?
Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?
For emulation hath a thousand sons
That one by one pursue.
For emulation hath a thousand sons
That one by one pursue.
Talkers are no good doers.
Talkers are no good doers.
As the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
As the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
O how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
O how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not is our stars,
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Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not is our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
Here's metal more attractive.
Here's metal more attractive.
Stained
With grief, that's beauty's canter.
Stained
With grief, that's beauty's canter.
