Shall I compare thee to a summer day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate... When in eternal lines to time thou growst So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say - I love you
No profit grows where no pleasure is taken.
O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.
It's easy for someone to joke about scars if they've never been cut.
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.