Sketch-blog of an alien-cat-sorcerer.

New Shakespeare Art

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.’


My love’s more richer than my tongue

Nothing will come of nothing.


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

I am a man more sinned against than sinning


Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?

Out, out, brief candle! Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.


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.