Sketch-blog of an alien-cat-sorcerer.

MONSTERS

Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend

Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
Upon thyself thy beauty’s legacy?
Nature’s bequest gives nothing, but doth lend,
And being frank, she lends to those are free:
Than, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use
So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live?
For having traffic with thyself alone,
Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive:
Then how, when Nature calls thee to be gone,
What acceptable audit canst thou leave?
Thy unus’d beauty must be tomb’d with thee,
Which used, lives th’ executor to be.


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.


Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges

For the rain it raineth every day


You pay a great deal too dear for what’s given freely

Out of the jaws of death


These words are razors to my wounded heart

What ‘s gone and what ‘s past help should be past grief


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


Love sought is good, but giv’n unsought is better

We are such stuff as dreams are made on, rounded with a little sleep


I have not slept one wink.

Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them


My salad days, when I was green in judgment.

The game is up.


Have more than thou showest, speak less than thou knowest, lend less than thou owest

The worst is not, So long as we can say, ‘This is the worst.’


How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child!

I am a man more sinned against than sinning


Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness.

Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red


Fair is foul, and foul is fair

I bear a charmed life


There ‘s daggers in men’s smiles

I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none


As he was valiant, I honor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him

Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once.
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, it seems to me most strange that men should fear;
Seeing that death, a necessary end, will come when it will come


A dish fit for the gods

Cry “Havoc,” and let slip the dogs of war


I’ll not budge an inch

We have seen better days


We have heard the chimes at midnight

The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on


A man can die but once

I do now remember the poor creature, small beer


The world is grown so bad, that wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch

But love is blind, and lovers cannot see


Off with his head!

An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told


Now is the winter of our discontent

A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!


I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind

Why, then the world ‘s mine oyster