These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume. The sweetest… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite. No motion of the liver, but the palate — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed so long against marriage:… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
There is a law in each well-ordered nation To curb those raging appetites that are Most disobedient and refractory. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Read o'er this And after, this, and then to breakfast with What appetite you have. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Who riseth from a feast With that keen appetite that he sits down? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The curse of marriage That we can call these delicate creatures ours And not their appetites! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
This rudeness is a sauce to his good wit, Which gives men stomach to digest his words With better appetite. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The sweetest honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness. And in the taste destroys the appetite. Therefore, love moderately. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Never; he will not: Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety: other women cloy The appetites they feed: but… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore love moderately— long love doth… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Divers philosophers hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep’st so sound. Julius Caesar (2.1.248-251)” — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
