William Shakespeare Quotes - Page 129
What Time hath scanted men in hair, he hath given them in wit.
What to ourselves in passion we propose, The passion ending, doth the purpose lose.
An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
That in the captains but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
Within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court.
Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, The numbers of the feared.
I do know of these That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing.
Slander lives upon succession, For ever housed where it gets possession.
No metal can--no, not the hangman's axe--bear half the keenness of thy sharp envy.
Though men can cover crimes with bold, stern looks, poor women's faces are their own faults' books.
Let fancy still in my sense in Lethe steep; If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.