A Loud Laugh Bespeaks a Vacant Mind!
William ShakespeareSigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever,-
One foot in sea and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Stichwörter: men sadness forgiveness understanding happy ladies
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.
William ShakespeareStichwörter: shakespeare much-ado-about-nothing
And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, —
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Stichwörter: shakespeare richard-iii
Frame your mind to mirth and merriment
which bars a thousand harms
and lengthens life.
The Play's the Thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.
William ShakespeareStichwörter: shakespeare theater hamlet play act-2 scene-2
They say best men are molded out of faults,
And, for the most, become much more the better
For being a little bad
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.--Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd!
Stichwörter: life existence death
Then others for breath of words respect,
Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
Stichwörter: poetry
Our doubts are traitors,
and make us lose the good we oft might win,
by fearing to attempt.
Stichwörter: doubt cowardice resolve self-doubt
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