William Shakespeare

These violent delights have violent ends.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.

Love comforteth like sunshine after rain.

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.

Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. then your love would also change.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do; and the reason why they are not so punish'd and cured is that the lunacy is soordinary that the whippers are in love too.

[Thine] face is not worth sunburning.

I do love nothing in the world so well as you- is not that strange?

And worse I may be yet: the worst is notSo long as we can say 'This is the worst.

I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.

How art thou out of breath when thou hast breathTo say to me that thou art out of breath?

O, wonder!How many goodly creatures are there here!How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world,That has such people in't!

Out, out brief candle, life is but a walking shadow...a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Me, poor man, my libraryWas dukedom large enough.

And yet,to say the truth, reason and love keep little company together nowadays.

Life ... is a taleTold by an idiot, full of sound and fury,Signifying nothing.