William Shakespeare Wave Quotations

Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place with that which goes before, In sequent toil all forwards do contend.

Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, more longing, wavering, sooner lost and won, than women's are.

Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.

Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.

Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures And of so easy and so plain a stop That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavering multitude, Can play upon it.