To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Those that much covet are with gain so fond, For what they have not, that which they possess They scatter and unloose… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, To guard a title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“I know love is begun by time, And that I see, in passages of proof, Time qualifies the spark and fire of… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The blood of youth burns not with such excess as gravity's revolt to wantonness. — 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
