O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
He that keeps not crust nor crum Weary of all, shall want some. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
What, keep a week away? Seven days and nights, Eightscore-eight hours, and lovers' absent hours More tedious than the dial eightscore times!… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Oh God! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Why, who cries out on pride that can therein tax any private party? Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea… — 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… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Look, the world's comforter, with weary gait, His day's hot task hath ended in the west: The owl, night's herald, shrieks-'tis very… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Thus weary of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid Their mistress mounted through the… — 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
To be in love- where scorn is bought with groans, Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment's mirth With twenty watchful,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“How heavy do I journey on the way, When what I seek, my weary travel's end, Doth teach that ease and that… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Is it thy will, thy image should keep open My heavy eyelids to the weary night? Dost thou desire my slumbers should… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend, or be rid on't. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
The weary sun hath made a golden set And by the bright tract of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
O, that this too too solid flesh would melt Thaw and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey… — 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
