Maxioms by William Shakespeare
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, read more
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. -King Henry read more
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 2.
It is neither good nor bad, but thinking makes it so.
It is neither good nor bad, but thinking makes it so.
If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.
If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.
The lady doth protest too much, me thinks
The lady doth protest too much, me thinks
