The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
All that glitters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life has sold But my outside… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Cold indeed, and labor lost: Then farewell heat, and welcome frost! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle that's curded by the frost from purest snow. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness! This is the state of man: today he puts forth The tender leaves of… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound; And through… — 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
