There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me And tune his merry note, Unto the sweet bird's throat; Come hither,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Rashly, And praised be rashness for it--let us know, Our indiscretion sometime serves us well When our deep plots do pall, and… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
This rough magic I here abjure and when I have required some heavenly music, which even now I do, to work mine… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed King; — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Ay; beauty's princely majesty is such, Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! *It’s sad. Love looks like a… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn. — 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
