Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Nor aught so good but strained from that fair use, Revolts from true birth stumbling on abuse. — 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
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Love moderately; long love doth so; too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give ... — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Benvolio: What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours? Romeo: Not having that, which, having, makes them short. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image