Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud; And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: So cares… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy, That one short minute gives me in her sight — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can, It cannot countervail the exchange of joy That one short minute gives me in her… — 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
Silence is the perfectest herault of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
To die, is to be banish'd from myself; And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her, Is self from self: a deadly banishment!… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure, And to that woman, when… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I that please some, try all, both joy and terror Of good and bad, that makes and unfolds error. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
What is light, if Sylvia be not seen? What is joy if Sylvia be not by? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy Be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more To blazon it, then… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
There's nothing in this world can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The violence of either grief or joy, their own enactures with themselves destroy. — 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
