Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But Lust's effect is tempest after sun; Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lust's winter… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
... the spring, the summer, The chilling autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world By their increase, now… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Winter, which, being full of care, makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Crabbed age and youth cannot live together; Youth is full of pleasure, age is full of care; Youth like summer morn, age… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows. — 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
Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affection, Figures pedantical--these summer flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Here's flowers for you; Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
If't be summer news, Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st But keep that count'nance still. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
These are the forgeries of jealousy; And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“O! how shall summer's honey breath hold out, / Against the wrackful siege of battering days?” — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance? — 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
Shall I compare thee to a summer day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate... When in eternal lines to time thou… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wreckful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this son of York; And all the clouds that lowered upon… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud; And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: So cares… — 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
“The purple violets and marigolds Shall as a carpet hang upon thy grave While summer days doth last. Ay me, poor maid,… — 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
