A Quote by William Shakespeare

Mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust. — © William Shakespeare
Mean and mighty, rotting Together, have one dust.
Gather out of star-dust, Earth-dust, Cloud-dust, Storm-dust, And splinters of hail, One handful of dream-dust, Not for sale.
It takes time for the dust to settle. And by dust, I mean people clouding your mind by giving wrong information and your expectations and excitement of being in the industry.
Once you've got the makings of a star, gravity draws leftover gas and dust into a giant swirling disk. The dust continues to stick together, clumping into rocky asteroids, which eventually become orbiting rocky planets. And voila: a solar system!
I drive a car till it turns to dust, then I sweep up the dust and ride on the dust.
Imagine some foul and putrid corpse that has lain rotting and decomposing in the grave, a jelly-like mass of liquid corruption. Imagine such a corpse a prey to flames, devoured by the fire of burning brimstone and giving off dense choking fumes of nauseous loathsome decomposition. And then imagine this sickening stench, multiplied a millionfold and a millionfold again from the millions upon millions of fetid carcasses massed together in the reeking darkness, a huge and rotting human fungus. Imagine all this, and you will have some idea of the horror of the stench of hell.
I wrote Freak the Mighty because Max, the mighty half of Freak the Mighty, insisted and he's bigger than I am.
Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. We are nothing, but dust and to dust we shall return. Amen.
The surface of the moon is like nothing here on Earth! It's totally lacking any evidence of life. It has lots of fine, talcum-powderlike dust mixed with a complete variety of pebbles, rocks, and boulders. Many pebbles, fewer rocks, and even fewer boulders naturally make up its surface. The dust is a very fine, overall dark gray. And with no air molecules to separate the dust, it clings together like cement.
There is a coldness to the Clave, it is true. We are dust and shadows. But you are like the heroes of ancient times, like Achilles and Jason.” “Achilles was murdered with a poisoned arrow, and Jason died alone, killed by his own rotting ship. Such is the fate of heroes; the Angel knows why anyone would want to be one.
She doth mean the earth to me! By earth, I actually mean dust.
When ordinary people come together, they can upset the mighty.
I am a dumb piece of meat and I rot everyday my flesh gives a rotting smell and people say it's the smell of life and they come to me and watch me rot and get happy and upset and annoyed and disgusted and maybe sometimes feel compassion but they don't realize they are rotting too.
As individual fingers we can easily be broken, but all together we make a mighty fist.
It is true that we are made of dust. And the world is also made of dust. But the dust has motes rising.
This is what happiness is, past the rubbish of its overuse as a word, past the cracked gloss of the letters that mean nothing when strung together. They mean something now, and I know what it's like when you and someone else are right together. How simple is is, and how amazing.
Think in terms of images and words. They can be mighty powerful when they are fitted together properly.
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