William Shakespeare

Fair is foul, and foul is fair:
Hover through the fog and filthy air.

You kiss by the book.

move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:

It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,

Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.

Things base and vile, folding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity:
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind:

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind

love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

Your self to pardon of self-doing crime.

And tender churl mak'st waste in niggarding:

Pity the world, or else this glutton be,

To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee