She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam bad left him before he transgressed.
William ShakespeareHe uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.
William ShakespeareIs love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
William Shakespeare