But no perfection is so absolute, That some impurity doth not pollute. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Alas, that they are so! To die even when they to perfection grow!” — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
How many things by season seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Every thing that grows / Holds in perfection but a little moment. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I would with such perfection govern, sir, T'excel the golden age. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“But no perfection is so absolute That some inpurity doth not pollute.” — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a fair divided… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“How many things by season season'd are, To their right praise and true perfection!” — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the… — 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
It is the witness still of excellency to put a strange face on his own perfection. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark When neither is attended; and I think The nightingale, if she should sing… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father refuse thy name, thou art thyself thou not a montegue, what is… — 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
