William Shakespeare

The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie.

She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.

My chastity's the jewel of our house, bequeathed down from many ancestors.

Art made tongue-tied by authority.

He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink; his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts. (Shakespeare, Love's Labor's Lost, IV)

Some men there are love not a gaping pig, some that are mad if they behold a cat, and others when the bagpipe sings I the nose cannot contain their urine.

Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!

But jealous souls will not be answered so, They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they're jealous. 'Tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.

it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance

My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.

We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.

When workmen strive to do better than well, they do confound their skill in covetousness.

O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.

I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting

Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream

And, if you love me, as I think you do, let's kiss and part, for we have much to do

All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

I do love nothing in the world so well as you- is not that strange?

So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

Crowns have their compass-length of days their date-_x000D_ _x000D_ Triumphs their tomb-felicity, her fate-_x000D_ _x000D_ Of nought but earth can earth make us partaker,_x000D_ _x000D_ But knowledge makes a king most like his Maker.