My grief lies all within — and these external manner of laments are merely shadows of the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.
My grief lies all within — and these external manner of laments are merely shadows of the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.
My grief lies all within — and these external manner of laments are merely shadows of the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.
My grief lies all within — and these external manner of laments are merely shadows of the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.
My grief lies all within — and these external manner of laments are merely shadows of the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.
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My grief lies all within

— and these external manner of laments are merely shadows of the unseen grief that swells with silence in the tortur'd soul.
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william shakespeare richard ii

More “William shakespeare” Quotes

My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel — I know not where I am nor what I do.
My hands are of your colour — but I shame To wear a heart so white.
William Shakespeare: You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die. — Marc Norman, Shakespeare in Love: A Screenplay
I'll find a day to massacre them allAnd raze their faction and their family,The cruel father and his traitorous sons,To — William Shakespeare, Titus Andronicus
When the devout religion of mine eyeMaintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires,And these, who, often drowned, co — William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Some are born mad, some achieve madness, and some have madness thrust upon 'em. — Emilie Autumn, The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls
Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile — Filths savour but themselves...
He [Alexander von Humboldt] was to science what Shakespeare was to the drama. — Robert G. Ingersoll
A bird without wings and a man without art are both condemned to wander in low places — they can never soar up to those unrivalled heights.
A big city is a big ocean — the one who doesn’t know how to swim finds himself at its bottom!
The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love. — William Shakespeare, Macbeth
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least — nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds reverb no hollowness.