Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
William ShakespeareIf music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.
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