William Shakespeare ( 10 of 368 )
Talkers are no good doers.
Talkers are no good doers.
Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?
Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?
The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
The sweetest honey
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness
And in the taste confounds the appetite.
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
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For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
O how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
O how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not is our stars,
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Men at some time are masters of their fates.
The fault, dear Brutus, is not is our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.
As the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
As the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
The silence often of pure innocence
Persuades, when speaking fails.
The silence often of pure innocence
Persuades, when speaking fails.
By that sin fell the angels.
By that sin fell the angels.
Here's metal more attractive.
Here's metal more attractive.
