What did William Shakespeare mean by: What’s past and what’s to come is strew’d with husks And formless ruin of oblivion. - William Shakespeare Playwright · England Copy
+ My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. Feraz Zeid, June 20, 2023December 12, 2023, William Shakespeare, Eye, Heart, Mines, 0 - William Shakespeare Playwright · England
+ There is a history in all men’s lives. Feraz Zeid, June 26, 2023December 12, 2023, William Shakespeare, Motivational, 0 - William Shakespeare Playwright · England
+ Ships are but boards, sailors but men. Feraz Zeid, August 20, 2023December 12, 2023, William Shakespeare, Boards, Ships, 0 - William Shakespeare Playwright · England
+ When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies. Feraz Zeid, December 14, 2023January 10, 2024, William Shakespeare, Deception, Love, Truth, 0 - William Shakespeare Playwright · England
+ Can I go forward when my heart is here? Feraz Zeid, September 19, 2023December 26, 2023, William Shakespeare, Heart, My Heart, 0 - William Shakespeare Playwright · England
+ In thy face I see the map of honour, truth and loyalty. Feraz Zeid, August 15, 2023December 12, 2023, William Shakespeare, Character, Loyalty, Truth, 0 - William Shakespeare Playwright · England
+ Patch up thine old body for heaven. Feraz Zeid, July 2, 2023December 12, 2023, William Shakespeare, Body, Heaven, 0 - William Shakespeare Playwright · England
+ A Loud Laugh Bespeaks a Vacant Mind! Feraz Zeid, June 3, 2023December 12, 2023, William Shakespeare, Laughing, Loud, Mind, 0 - William Shakespeare Playwright · England
When a work appears to be ahead of its time, it is only the time that is behind the work. - Jean Cocteau Artist · France
Children have neither past nor future;they enjoy the present, which very few of us do. - Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
Those who make the worst use of their time are the first to complain of its shortness. Explain - Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
Days, months, years fly away, and irrecoverably sink in the abyss of time. Explain - Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
Love receives its death-wound from aversion, and forgetfulness buries it. Explain - Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
Every hour in itself, as it respects us in particular, is the only one we can call our own. Explain - Jean de la Bruyere Writer · France
Every work of art is an abstraction from time; it denies the reality of change and decay and death. - Lewis Mumford Historian · USA
