Sketch-blog of an alien-cat-sorcerer.

Abstract Comics

Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest

Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another;
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some
mother,
For where is she so fair whose unear’d womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
Of his self-love, to stop posterity?
Thou art thy mother’s glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime;
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.
But if thou live, remember’d not to be,
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.

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Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind

Everyone can master a grief but he that has it


Men of few words are the best men

The course of true love never did run smooth


Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under ‘t.

I have no spur to prick the sides of my intent, but only vaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itself, and falls on the other.


If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me

Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it; he died as one that had been studied in his death to throw away the dearest thing he owed, as ‘t were a careless trifle