Music can minister to minds diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
In sooth I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me, you say it wearies you; But how I caught… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Macbeth: How does your patient, doctor? Doctor: Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies that keep her… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
You must not think That we are made of stuff so fat and dull That we can let our beard be shook… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Day, night, late, early, At home, abroad, alone, in company, Waking or sleeping, still my care hath been To have her match'd;… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low:… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We are such stuff as dreams are made of. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I will be master of what is mine own: She is my goods, my chattels; she is my house, My household stuff,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty; Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff… — 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
