Stay Signed In
Do you want to access your site more quickly on this computer? Check this box, and your username and password will be remembered for two weeks. Click logout to turn this off.
Stay Safe
Do not check this box if you are using a public computer. You don't want anyone seeing your personal info or messing with your site.
This page isen't all about "The Phantom of the Opera", this is where i keep my favourite quotes from my favourite poet and playwright: William Skakespeare
I know't; I thank you. You do love my lord:
You have known him long; and be you well assured
He shall in strangeness stand no further off
Than in a polite distance.
Desdemona - Othello Act III, Scene III
This matter of marrying his king's daughter, wherein
he must be weighed rather by value than his own,
words him, i doubt not, a great deal from the matter
Iachmo - Cymbeline Act I, Scene IV
I am dying, Egypt, dying;
I here importune death awhile, until
Of many thousand kisses the poor last
I lay up thy lips.
Mark Antony "Anthony and Cleopatra" Act IV Scene XV
Nominativo, hig, hag, hog; pray you mark:
genitivo, hujus. Well what is your accusative case, child?
Pray you, have your remembrance, child,
accusative, hung, hang, hog
Sir Hugh Evans "The Merry Wives of Windsor" Act IV Scene I
To speak so indirectly I am loath:
I would say the truth; but to accuse him so,
That is your part: yet i am advised to do it;
He says, to veil full purpose
Isabella - Measure for Measure Act IV, Scene VI
Of all these bounds, even from this line to this,
With shadowy forsets and with champains rich'd,
With plenteous rivers and wide-skirted meads,
We take thee lady: to thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual. What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak.
King Lear - King Lear Act I, Scene I
To bind me, or undo me; one of them.
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior,
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour.
Much Ado About Nothing - Act V, Scene IV
And thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee
Sonnet I
Back To Home Page
