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Monday, April 25, 2016

The course of true love never did run smooth.



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The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.



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The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company.







Speak low, if you speak love.



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Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent.



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This above all; to thine own self be true.



God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another. shakespeare. rasim çetiner




God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another.



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Neither a borrower nor a lender be; for loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. (Hamlet)



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The barge she sat in, like a burnish’d throne, burn’d on the water. (Antony and Cleopatra)



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Off with his head! (Richard III)



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Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown. (Henry IV, Part 2)



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Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. (The Tempest)



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What light through yonder window breaks. (Romeo and Juliet)


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Now is the winter of our discontent.



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Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.



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Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.



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Now is the winter of our discontent.



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It is a wise father that knows his own child.



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Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once. (Julius Caesar)



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Full fathom five thy father lies, of his bones are coral made. Those are pearls that were his eyes. Nothing of him that doth fade, but doth suffer a sea-change into something rich and strange. (The Tempest)



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A man can die but once. (Henry IV, Part 2)



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To thine own self be true. (Hamlet)



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All that glisters is not gold. (The Merchant of Venice)



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If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?



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Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.



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No legacy is so rich as honesty.



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Hell is empty and all the devils are here.



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Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.





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