O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
Quote by Shakespeare
Though this be madness, yet there is method
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Other women cloy the appetites...
The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn
It is neither good nor bad, but thinking makes it so.
We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards
Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire.
The silence often of pure innocence persuades when speaking fails.
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off...
We are such stuff as dreams are made of, and our little life is rounded...
When thou dost ask me blessing, I'll kneel down,And ask of thee forgiveness.
O' What may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; for in my youth I...
Why this is very midsummer madness.
To be or not to be that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the...
They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and...
Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me, From mine own library with volumes that...
If books were Persian carpets, one would not look only at the outer side. because...
The instruction we find in books is like fire. We fetch it from our neighbours,...