O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Crowns have their compass-length of days their date- Triumphs their tomb-felicity, her fate- Of nought but earth can earth make us partaker,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
No matter where; of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; his love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; his tears pure messengers sent from his heart;… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The bay-trees in our country are all withered, And meteors fright the fixèd stars of heaven. The pale-faced moon looks bloody on… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Macbeth to Witches: What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, That look not like th' inhabitants o' th'… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Oh, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel… — 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
