If good, why do I yield to that suggestion Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair And make my seated heart knock at my ribs, Against the use of nature? Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings: My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man, that function Is smother’d in surmise, and nothing […]
Be absolute with death. Either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
Merely, thou art death’s fool, For him thou labor’st by thy flight to shun, And yet run’st toward him still. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
How would you be If He, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? Oh, think on that, And mercy then will breathe within your lips Like man new mad. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
But come what may, I do adore thee so That danger shall seem sport, and I will go! William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
O time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t’untie. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
But ’tis strange: And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths; Win us with honest trifles, to betray’s In deepest consequence. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
Our rash faults Make trivial price of serious things we have, Not knowing them until we know their grave: Oft our displeasures, to ourselves unjust, Destroy our friends and after weep their dust: Our own love waking cries to see what’s done, While shame full late sleeps out the afternoon. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
All is whole; Not one word more of the consumed time. Let’s take the instant by the forward top; For we are old, and on our quick’st decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
I am not a day of season, For thou mayst see a sunshine and a hail In me at once: but to the brightest beams Distracted clouds give way; so stand thou forth; The time is fair again. William Shakespeare (1564 – 1616)
