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“I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me.”
― Hamlet
― Hamlet
“OPHELIA: Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so.
HAMLET: You should not have believed me. For
virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock
but we shall relish of it. I love you not.
OPHELIA: I was the more deceived.”
― Hamlet
HAMLET: You should not have believed me. For
virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock
but we shall relish of it. I love you not.
OPHELIA: I was the more deceived.”
― Hamlet
“دخل الربيع يضحك لقاني حزين
نده الربيع على إسمي لم قلت مين
حط الربيع أزهاره جنبي وراح
وإيش تعمل الأزهار للميتين
عجبي”
―
نده الربيع على إسمي لم قلت مين
حط الربيع أزهاره جنبي وراح
وإيش تعمل الأزهار للميتين
عجبي”
―
“When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.”
― Shakespeare's Sonnets
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.”
― Shakespeare's Sonnets
“My featherbed is deep and soft,
and there I’ll lay you down,
I’ll dress you all in yellow silk
and on your head a crown.
For you shall be my lady love,
and I shall be your lord.
I’ll always keep you warm and safe,
and guard you with my sword.
And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree.
She spun away and said to him,
no featherbed for me.
I’ll wear a gown of golden leaves,
and bind my hair with grass,
But you can be my forest love,
and me your forest lass.”
― A Storm of Swords
and there I’ll lay you down,
I’ll dress you all in yellow silk
and on your head a crown.
For you shall be my lady love,
and I shall be your lord.
I’ll always keep you warm and safe,
and guard you with my sword.
And how she smiled and how she laughed, the maiden of the tree.
She spun away and said to him,
no featherbed for me.
I’ll wear a gown of golden leaves,
and bind my hair with grass,
But you can be my forest love,
and me your forest lass.”
― A Storm of Swords
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