Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
She moves me not, or not removes at least affection's edge in me.
Alack, there lies more peril in thine eyeThan twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,And I am proof against their enmity.
Yet but three come one more.Two of both kinds make up four.Ere she comes curst and sad.Cupid is a knavish lad.Thus to make poor females mad.
They lie deadly that tell you have good faces.
And nothing is, but what is not.
You are thought here to the most senseless and fit man for the job.
Your face, my thane, is as a book where menMay read strange matters. To beguile the time,Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,But be the...
The sweetest honey is loathsome in its own deliciousness. And in the taste destroys the appetite. Therefore, love moderately.
And therefore, - since I cannot prove a lover,To entertain these fair well-spoken days, -I am determined to prove a villain,And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.
Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing,- For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble
As Shakespeare says, if you're going to do a thing you might as well pop right at it and get it over.
The king stood in a pool of blue light, unmoored.
Miranda opened her eyes in time to see the sunrise. A wash of violent color, pink and streaks of brilliant orange, the container ships on the horizon suspended between the blaze of the sky and the...
The Red Lion was a four-ale bar with a handful of lowbrowed sons of toil who looked as though they...
What could you do? Major Major asked himself again. What could you do with a man who looked you...
If I turned towards books, it was because they were the only sanctuary I knew, one I needed in order...
We all had to pay, but not for the crimes we were accused of. There were other scores to settle.
Why are they going to disappear him? I don't know. It doesn't make sense. It isn't even good...
Havermeyer was a lead bombardier who never missed. Yossarian was a lead bombardier who had been...
fiction is like a spider's web, attached ever so slightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all...
the full fury of his storming countenance with its rugged overhang of gullied forehead and huge crag...
Hope for some means its loss for others; when the hopeless regain some hope, those in power--the...
