William Shakespeare

O my prophetic soul!
My uncle?

O my prophetic soul!
My uncle?

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, read more

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. -The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1.

So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that read more

So tedious is this day
As is the night before some festival
To an impatient child that hath new robes
And may not wear them.

Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught:
Our sweetest songs are those which tell of saddest read more

Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught:
Our sweetest songs are those which tell of saddest thought.

Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, But not remember'd in thy epitaph! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act read more

Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, But not remember'd in thy epitaph! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.