Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.
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Search results for 12th century, 17th century
448 allegories found
Page 6 of 45
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What is past is prologue.
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Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
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A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
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What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
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Parting is such sweet sorrow.
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The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
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This above all: to thine own self be true.
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Now is the winter of our discontent.
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A little more than kin, and less than kind.
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