Kent. Where's the king? Gent. Contending with the fretful elements; Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
This life, which had been the tomb of his virtue and of his honour, is but a walking shadow; a poor player,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, And so doth yours: your fault was not your folly; Needs must you lay… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury.” — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I do oppose My patience to his fury, and am arm'd To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, The very tyranny and… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing. — 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
