Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; but, God He knows, thy share thereof is small.
William ShakespeareFor sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
William ShakespeareHave you not love enough to bear with me, when that rash humor which my mother gave me makes me forgetful.
William ShakespeareThis is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish extravagant spirit full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions; these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion.
William Shakespeare