William Shakespeare ( 10 of 368 )
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
Now, infidel, I have you on the hip!
Now, infidel, I have you on the hip!
Trust not him that hath once broken faith.
Trust not him that hath once broken faith.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied read more
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,
Since riches point to misery and contempt?
Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt,
Since riches point to misery and contempt?
What's gone, and what's past help,
Should be past grieve.
What's gone, and what's past help,
Should be past grieve.
My high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me
Weary and old with read more
My high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me
Weary and old with service.
More mild, but yet more harmful; kind in hatred.
More mild, but yet more harmful; kind in hatred.
We ne'er shall look upon his like again.
We ne'er shall look upon his like again.
Fear not the future, weep not for the past.
Fear not the future, weep not for the past.
