Monday, 12 October 2009
♥ Shakespeare, William
They do not love that do not show their love.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.
- When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
- But in battalions.
I'll follow you and make a heaven out of hell, and I'll die by your
hand which I love so well.
Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.
Love is the most beautiful of dreams and the worst of nightmares.
- Have more than thou showest,
- Speak less than thou knowest,
- Lend less than thou owest,
- Ride more than thou goest,
- Learn more than thou trowest,
- Set less than thou throwest;
- Leave thy drink and thy whore,
- And keep in-a-door,
- And thou shall have more
- Than two tens to a score.
- Cowards die many times before their deaths
- The valiant never taste of death but once.
Fair is foul, and foul is fair.
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
- When we are born, we cry that we are come
- To this great stage of fools.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
- Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;
- Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,
- Yet grace must still look so.
- 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.
- For naught so vile that on the earth doth live
- But to the earth some special good doth give;
- Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use,
- Revolts from true birth, stumbling on the abuse:
- Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;
- And vice sometimes by action dignified.
A friend is one who knows who you are, understands where you have
been, accepts what you have become, and still gently
allows you to grow.
- I dare do all that may become a man;
- Who dares do more, is none.
My bounty is as deep as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.
- To be, or not to be: that is the question:
- Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
- The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
- Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
- And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
- No more; and by a sleep to say we end
- The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
- That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
- Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
- To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
- For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
- When we have shuffled off this mortal coil.