O momentary grace of mortal men, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
See the minutes, how they run, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more Of mortal griefs than do thy… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Nature does require her time of preservation, which perforce, I her frail son amongst my brethren mortal, must give my attendance to. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead. Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief Shore his old thread in… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Merciful heaven, Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle; but man,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground, and tell sad stories of the death of kings... All murdered; for within… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Then to Silvia let us sing that Silvia is excelling. She excels each mortal thing upon the dull earth dwelling. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
My dear, dear Lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation; that away Men are but gilded loan or painted… — 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
