O ill-starred wench! Pale as your smock!

And there was never a better time to delve for pleasure in language than the sixteenth century, when novelty blew through English like a spring breeze. Some twelve thousand words, a phenomenal number, entered the...

Theoretically speaking a good reader should also be a good learner, whatever the century and the place!

I don’t think that science and the paranormal have to be at war; in fact, it’s crucial that they work together. It seems naïve to believe that the world is exactly as it seems.

If the distinction is not held too rigidly nor pressed too far, it is interesting to think of Shakespeare’s chief works as either love dramas or power dramas, or a combination of the two. In...

Perhaps talk of counters turned the boy’s thoughts to his father’s glove shop. His father would have accounted for all his transactions using the tokens. They were hard and round and very thin, made of...

Shakespeare, in some sense, helped create the modern man, didn’t he, his influence is that pervasive. He held the mirror up to nature, but he also created that mirror: so the image he created is...

How much easier it is to be poor than rich.

Usually, Shakespeare gives me goose bumps. The guy knows everything. Like some ancient angel quill-ing out blueprints life. Hiding it in fiction. And usually I love the sound of the words, the way they dance...

Orr slept. He dreamed. There was no rub.

The name of Robert G. Ingersoll is in the pantheon of the world. More than any other man who ever lived he destroyed religious superstition. He was the Shakespeare of oratory — the greatest that...

Affliction is enamoured of thy parts, And thou art wedded to calamity.

Beshrew your eyes,They have o’erlook’d me and divided me;One half of me is yours, the other half yours,Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,And so all yours.

I can call spirits from the vasty deep.”Why so can I, or so can any man. But will they come when you do call for them?

Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.

Reading Shakespeare is sometimes like looking through a window into a dark room. You don’t see in. You see nothing but a reflection of yourself unable to see in. An unflattering image of yourself blind.

To be or not to be, that is the question: to go on living, fighting against this sea of troubles, or to die and end everything? Why be afraid of death? To die is to...

I wrote you this poem because i was afraid/ To come out and tell you i want to get laid.

There is no shortage of fault to be found amidst our stars.

Banks frown when employees torch the home of their principal account holder.

Shakespeare is so kinky.

Misquote Shakespeare in front of Samuel, I dare you,” I told her, and she laughed.

Shakespeare: The Biography,

Mother, you have my father much offended.

The time approachesThat will with due decision make us knowWhat we shall say we have and what we owe.Thoughts speculative their unsure hopes relate,But certain issue strokes must arbitrate;Towards which, advance the war.They exit marching.

I have no spurTo prick the sides of my intent, but onlyVaulting ambition, which o’erleaps itselfAnd falls on the other.

Weaving spiders, come not here, Hence, you long legged spinners, hence! Beetles black, approach not here, worm nor snail, do no offense.

You mar our labour: keep your cabins:you do assist the storm[…] What cares these roarers for the name of king?

Books are Lighthouses erected in the sea of time.” Prospero in Shakespeare’s The Tempest

Be thou not technical with me,/Or else thine input valve may swift receive/a hearty helping of my golden foot.

If love tasted like pork, and you were allergic to Francis Bacon, could I be your Shakespeare? We could make love on a pizza and make much ado about nothing, everything, anything, something.

Art is enchantment and artists have the right of spells. … The success of later Shakespeare is the success of spells, where every element, however uneven, however incredible, is fastened to the next with perfect...

I also became a poet, and for one year lived in a Paradise of my own creation; I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the names of Homer and...

Shakespeare’s ambiguous lubricity in Venus is less disturbing than the bleakly moral emphasis of Lucrece, where virtue is so low-spirited, its exclamation so lachrymose and its justification the nasty realpolitik of Roman Republicanism. The sun...

Shakespeare opens a mine which contains gold and diamonds in unexhaustible plenty, though clouded by incrustations, debased by impurities, and mingled with a mass of meaner minerales.

Shakespeare is getting flyblown; a paternal government might well forbid writing about him, as they put his monument at Stratford beyond the reach of scribbling fingers. With all this buzz of criticism about, one may...

Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog And little mouse, every unworthy thing, Live here in heaven and may look on her, But Romeo may not.

Friar Laurence:O, mickle is the powerful grace that liesIn herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities: For nought to vile that on the earth doth live, But to the earth some special good doth give;...

He kills her in her own humor.

Brief as the lightning in the collied night;That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and Earth,And ere a man hath power to say “Behold!”The jaws of darkness do devour it up.So quick bright things come...

I no longer believe that William Shakespeare the actor from Stratford was the author of the works that have been ascribed to him.

Looking for God—or Heaven—by exploring space is like reading or seeing all Shakespeare’s plays in the hope that you will find Shakespeare as one of the characters.

A good many times I have been present at gatherings of people who, by the standards of the traditional culture, are thought highly educated and who have with considerable gusto been expressing their incredulity at...

When we can’t understand the science behind something in this world, we make up mythological entities that we can relate to. We personify the forces of nature that mystify us, using our boundless imaginations to...

Some are born mad, some achieve madness, and some have madness thrust upon ’em.

But what if Shakespeare― and Hamlet― were asking the wrong question? What if the real question is not whether to be, but how to be?

He did recall that the summer after graduating from college before he joined the state police he had read Shakespeare. It was the pure language that stupefied him. He would be in a diner reading...

I know Verona as I do my own body.

Shakespeare had it right all along: Love will kill you in the end.

I want to have a romance so grand,it would have made Shakespeare fumble for words.