Emotions and Feelings

Modest doubt is call’d The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To the bottom of the worst.

And in such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the giant mass Of things to come.

Then everything includes itself in power, Power into will, will into appetite; And appetite, a universal wolf, So doubly seconded with will and power, Must make perforce a universal prey, And last eat up himself.

Then everything includes itself in power, Power into will, will into appetite; And appetite, a universal wolf, So doubly seconded with will and power, Must make perforce a universal prey, And last eat up himself.

Men prize the thing ungain’d more than it is.

Women are angels, wooing: Things won are done; joy’s soul lies in the doing.

Women are angels, wooing: Things won are done; joy’s soul lies in the doing.

Reason, in itself confounded, Saw division grow together.

Nay, an thou’lt mouth, I’ll rant as well as thou.

Though I am not splenetive and rash Yet have I in me something dangerous.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies, But in battalions. 36

So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honor’s at the stake.

Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honor’s at the stake.

How all occasions do inform against me, And spur my dull revenge! What is a man, If his chief good and market of his time Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and godlike reason To fust in us unus’d.

Confess yourself to heaven; Repent what’s past; avoid what is to come.

A king of shreds and patches.

O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, If thou canst mutine in a matron’s bones, To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame When the compulsive ardor gives the charge, Since frost itself as actively doth burn, And reason panders will.

O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, If thou canst mutine in a matron’s bones, To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame When the compulsive ardor gives the charge, Since frost itself as actively doth burn, And reason panders will.

O! my offense is rank, it smells to heaven; It hath the primal eldest curse upon ’t; A brother’s murder!

Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; And now I’ll do ’t: and so he goes to heaven; And so I am reveng’d.

Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; When little fears grow great, great love grows there.

They are not a pipe for fortune’s finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee. Something too much of this.

They are not a pipe for fortune’s finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee. Something too much of this.