William Shakespeare Quotes

Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen can passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare

Quotes to Explore

Citatis.com uses cookies and complies with California Consumer Privacy Act.
By continuing to use the site you consent to our policies regarding cookies and personal data processing.