William Shakespeare

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

He that dies pays all debts

He that dies pays all debts

So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace,
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So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace,
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
That the main harvest reaps.

For thou hast given me in this beauteous face
A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
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For thou hast given me in this beauteous face
A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.

Anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. read more

Anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.