I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.
Well, I must do__. Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot__ spirit! My throat of war be turn__, Which quier__ with my drum, into a pipe Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice That babies lull asleep! The smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys_ tears take up The glasses of my sight! A beggar__ tongue Make motion through my lips, and my arm__ knees, Who bow__ but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath receiv__ an alms! I will not do__, Lest I surcease to honor mine own truth, And by my body__ action teach my mind A most inherent baseness.
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Well, I must do__. Away, my disposition, and possess me Some harlot__ spirit! My throat of war be turn__, Which quier__ with my drum, into a pipe Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice That babies lull asleep! The smiles of knaves Tent in my cheeks, and schoolboys_ tears take up The glasses of my sight! A beggar__ tongue Make motion through my lips, and my arm__ knees, Who bow__ but in my stirrup, bend like his That hath receiv__ an alms! I will not do__, Lest I surcease to honor mine own truth, And by my body__ action teach my mind A most inherent baseness.
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Huge difference between being happy at will, and chasing euphoric moments as an escape. One doesn't cost a dime, the other will tax your soul.
Ay, that I had not done a thousand more.Even now I curse the day__nd yet, I think,Few come within the compass of my curse,__herein I did not some notorious ill,As kill a man, or else devise his death,Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it,Accuse some innocent and forswear myself,Set deadly enmity between two friends,Make poor men's cattle break their necks;Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night,And bid the owners quench them with their tears.Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their graves,And set them upright at their dear friends' doors,Even when their sorrows almost were forgot;And on their skins, as on the bark of trees,Have with my knife carved in Roman letters,'Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.'Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful thingsAs willingly as one would kill a fly,And nothing grieves me heartily indeedBut that I cannot do ten thousand more.
We each sell alittle piece of happiness. You are elevating someone's spirit in some way, and to do that you have to understand the source of their angst and then you have to frame your product as a solution.
In thy foul throat thou liest.
..What our contempt often hurls from us,We wish it our again; the present pleasure,By revolution lowering,does becomeThe opposite of itself..