A Quote by William Shakespeare
He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May.
Related Quotes
Some people pretend to like capers, but the truth is that any dish that tastes good with capers in it tastes even better with capers not in it.
A man who writes well writes not as others write, but as he himself writes; it is often in speaking badly that he speaks well.
He who writes prose builds his temple to Fame in rubble; he who writes verses builds it in granite.
When my mother was born on 14 April, he named her after a Latin American holiday, the Day of Americas, that nobody knew about. My due date also happened to be 14 April.
Dirty days hath September
April June and November
From January up to May
The rain it raineth every day
All the rest have thirty-one
Without a blessed gleam of sun
And if any of them had two-and-thirty
They'd be just as wet and twice as dirty."
"April hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
He who speaks, he who writes is above all one who speaks on behalf of all those who have no voice.
He who writes prose builds his temple to Fame in rubble; he who writes verses builds it in granite. - Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer-Lytton, first Baron Lytton
Kanan is a big road through the Santa Monica Mountains. Between mid-March and mid-April, when you get over to the western side of the mountains, it's populated by Spanish broom - this beautiful, yellow, flowering weed that smells the way I imagine it smells along the Yellow Brick Road.
In April, God speaks to us in the seas whose rhythmic murmuring fills our ears from a long way off. It was in April that the Titanic went down into the deep to lie like a slasher's victim, bleeding the 'debris field' - its passengers' personal possessions, the everyday things of everyman and everywoman - across the ocean's floor.
April in Paris, chestnuts in blossom, holiday tables under the trees.
It dances today, my heart,
like a peacock it dances,
it dances.
It sports a mosaic of passions like a peacock’s tail,
It soars to the sky with delight, it quests,
Oh wildly, it dances today, my heart,
like a peacock it dances.
The artist writes, paints, sings or dances the burden of some idea or feeling off his mind.
He said that he was sure you would be amendable to this course of action." April paused, eyes widening, before she said indignantly, "I believe he may have lied to me!
April, like a child,
Writes hieroglyphs on dust with flowers,
Wipes them away and forgets.
Who speaks is not who writes, and who writes is not who is.
I had more verses . Owen Bradley said, 'Loretta, there's already been one El Paso and we'll never have another one. Get in that room and start taking some of those verses off.' Yeah, I took six verses off.
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