William Shakespeare

Leave her to Heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting read more

Leave her to Heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her.

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!

Affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow! -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. read more

Affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow! -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year! -The Merry Wives of read more

O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 4.