He that is proud eats up himself; pride in his glass, his trumpet, his chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise
Quote by Shakespeare
Death where is thy sting? Love, where is thy glory?
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?
Oh God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their...
I were but little happy, if I could say how much
Lawless are they that make their wills their law.
A ministering angel shall my sister be.
I'll follow you and make a heaven out of hell, and I'll die by your...
Every fair from fair sometime declines
I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and...
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot that it do singe yourself.
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Falsehood falsehood cures
If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels...
Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part...
There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
So dear I love him that with him, All deaths I could endure. Without him,...
All of my life I have always had the urge to do things better than...
There are things we can do to give us a little more attention... I've got...
One thing is sure. We have to do something. We have to do the best...