Quotes and Text Messages

She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm in the bud
Feed on her damask cheek; she pined in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief.

Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings,
Melts them; to ruin his own fortune brings. Shakespeare
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man. To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope. To-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost. William Shakespeare

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