Nature, what things there are Most abject in regard, and dear in use! What things again most dear in the esteem, And poor in worth! William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)

Nature, what things there are Most abject in regard, and dear in use! What things again most dear in the esteem, And poor in worth! William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
Who shall be true to us, When we are so unsecret to ourselves? William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
He will be the physician that should be the patient. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
Even so Doth valour’s show and valour’s worth divide In storms of fortune. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
Why then, you princes, Do you with cheeks abash’d behold our works, And call them shames? which are indeed nought else But the protractive trials of great Jove, To find persistive constancy in men. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
Men prize the thing ungain’d more than it is. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow; a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more: […]
But I remember now I am in this earthly world; where to do harm Is often laudable, to do good sometime Accounted dangerous folly. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)