Things Are Often Spoke And Seldom Meant.
- William Shakespeare
She Cannot Love, Nor Take No Shape Nor Project Or Affection, She Is So Self-Endeared.
The Peace Of Heaven Is Theirs That Lift Their Swords, In Such A Just And Charitable War.
While You Live Tell Truth And Shame The Devil.
Pity Is The Virtue Of The Law, And None But Tyrants Use It Cruelly.
We Burn Daylight.
Come Unto These Yellow Sands, And Then Take Hands: Courtsied When You Have, And Kiss’d The Wild Waves Whist.
Rich Gifts Wax Poor When Givers Prove Unkind.
Where The Bee Sucks, There Suck I: In A Cowslip’s Bell I Lie; There I Couch When Owls Do Cry. On The Bat’s Back I Do Fly After Summer Merrily. Merrily, Merrily Shall I Live Now Under The Blossom That Hangs On The Bough.
O Sleep, Thou Ape Of Death, Lie Dull Upon Her And Be Her Sense But As A Monument, Thus In A Chapel Lying.
Friendship Is Constant In All Other Things Save In The Office And Affairs Of Love: Therefore All Hearts In Love Use Their Own Tongues; Let Every Eye Negotiate For Itself, And Trust No Agent.
Like As The Waves Make Towards The Pebbled Shore, So Do Our Minutes Hasten To Their End.
I Will Fasten On This Sleeve Of Thine: Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine.
This England Never Did, Nor Never Shall, Lie At The Proud Foot Of A Conqueror.
Fetter Strong Madness In A Silken Thread.
Short Time Seems Long In Sorrow’s Sharp Sustaining.
He Is The Half Part Of A Blessed Man, Left To Be Finished By Such As She; And She A Fair Divided Excellence, Whose Fulness Of Perfection Lies In Him.
I Have Wedded Her, Not Bedded Her; And Sworn To Make The ‘Not’ Eternal.
So Every Bondman In His Own Hand Bears The Power To Cancel His Captivity.
Our Bodies Are Our Gardens To Which Our Wills Are Gardeners.
Were Such Things Here As We Do Speak About? Or Have We Eaten On The Insane Root That Takes The Reason Prisoner?
Nature Does Require Her Times Of Preservation.
In Peace There’s Nothing So Becomes A Man As Modest Stillness And Humility.
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