Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
William ShakespeareTime, whose millioned accidents creep in betwixt vows, and change decrees of kings, tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharpest intents, divert strong minds to the course of altering things.
William ShakespeareLet me have men about me that are fat... Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
William Shakespeare