William Shakespeare

Stained
With grief, that's beauty's canter.

Stained
With grief, that's beauty's canter.

If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him, according as
he pleased and displeased them. . read more

If the tag-rag people did not clap him and hiss him, according as
he pleased and displeased them. . . . I am no true man.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

She has a housewife's hand; but that's no matter:
I say she never did invent this letter;
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She has a housewife's hand; but that's no matter:
I say she never did invent this letter;
This is a man's invention and his hand.

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall