I must be cruel only to be kind; Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. William Shakespeare
I must be cruel only to be kind; Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
Now cracks a noble heart. Good-night, sweet prince; And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. William Shakespeare
Now cracks a noble heart. Good-night, sweet prince; And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.
I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum. William Shakespeare
I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.
Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love. William Shakespeare
Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.
Madness in great ones must not unwatched go. William Shakespeare
Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.
Though this be madness, yet there is method in't. William Shakespeare
Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.
When sorrows come, they come not single spies. But in battalions! William Shakespeare
When sorrows come, they come not single spies. But in battalions!
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go. William Shakespeare
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below: Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
Conscience doth make cowards of us all. William Shakespeare
Conscience doth make cowards of us all.
This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man. William Shakespeare
This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.
I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw. William Shakespeare
I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.
To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come... William Shakespeare
To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...
