If music be the food of love, play on.
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553 allegories found
Page 8 of 56
If music be the food of love, play on.
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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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Et tu, Brute?
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A little more than kin, and less than kind.
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All that glisters is not gold.
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The course of true love never did run smooth.
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