Sketch-blog of an alien-cat-sorcerer.

Special Takes Series

Now is the winter of our discontent

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


For ever and a day

Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!


I like not fair terms and a villain’s mind

Why, then the world ‘s mine oyster


How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes!

Absence from those we love is self from self – a deadly banishment.


Can one desire too much of a good thing?

A peace is of the nature of a conquest; for then both parties nobly are subdued, and neither party loser.


All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts

A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.


I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions


They lie deadly that tell you you have good faces.

I will speak daggers to her, but use none


Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind

Do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?


Brevity is the soul of wit

Doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love


The play ‘s the thing wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king

And it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man


The lady doth protest too much, methinks

 


A little more than kin, and less than kind


To be, or not to be: that is the question

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.


This above all: to thine own self be true

He is deformed, crooked, old and sere,
Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere;
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind;
Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.