Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. But, either it was different in blood,- Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,- Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.
William ShakespeareShow me a mistress that is passing fair, what doth her beauty serve but as a note where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
William ShakespearePoor and content, is rich and rich enough; But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
William ShakespeareA jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.
William Shakespeare