Maxioms by William Shakespeare
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
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My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smothered in surmise and nothing is
But what is not.
Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,
But with a crafty madness keeps aloof
When read more
Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,
But with a crafty madness keeps aloof
When we would bring him on to some confession
Of his true state.
And if you can be merry then, I'll say
A man may weep upon his wedding day.
And if you can be merry then, I'll say
A man may weep upon his wedding day.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing read more
Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulleth edge of husbandry.
