Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
From this time forth My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
O most delicate fiend! Who is't can read a woman? Is there more?
Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.
For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end.
O that men's ears should be To counsel deaf but not to flattery!
A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.
What our contempts do often hurl from us, We wish it ours again.
You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
Lay on, McDuff, and be damned he who first cries, 'Hold, enough!
There are occasions and causes, why and wherefore in all things.
Honour travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast.
A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder.
So sweetly she bade me adieu, I thought that she bade me return.
Oh, be wise, Thou! Instructed that true knowledge leads to love.
Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few.
In truth the prison, unto which we doom Ourselves, no prison is.
We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
Choice word and measured phrase above the reach Of ordinary men.
I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.
Only when the sense of the pain of others begins does man begin.
Study the world's skin before you set out to look for its heart.
Oh, 'tis jesting, dancing, drinking Spins the heavy world around.
Questions structure and, so, to some extent predetermine answers.
Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.
So much time is spent on belief. So little time is spent on love!
I have a rendezvous with death... I will not fail that rendezvous
Sex is the sacred song of the soul; Sex is the sanctuary of Self.
Falsehood is invariably the child of fear in one form or another.
The only time you run out of chances is when you stop taking them
So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.
Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.
Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.
For words divide and rend But silence is most noble till the end.
Which way will the sunflower turn surrounded by millions of suns?
We are afraid that we have not lived. We are not afraid of dying.
So face with calm that heritage And earn contempt before the age.
we know our end A packet of worm-seed, a garden of spent tissues.
To die for an idea is to set a rather high price upon conjecture.
I don't like poems that invent memories, I have enough of my own.
I could never trust anyone who's well adjusted to a sick society.
How many wars will it take us to learn that only the dead return?
But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near.
My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow.
Love is a broken vase whose shape everyone remembers differently.
Real tenderness can't be confused, It's quiet and can't be heard.
Rising from the past, my shadow Is running in silence to meet me.
Poems are my link with the times, with the new life of my people.