Be not afeard, the Isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not :
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears ; and sometimes voices,
That if I then had wak’d after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again, and then in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I wak’d
I cried to dream again.
William Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act Three, Scene Two
Notes
-
snapdragonshoes reblogged this from youngcontrarian
-
sarahwaves likes this
-
photosareinyoureyes reblogged this from beccabatchofpancakes
-
xshutmeupwithkissesx reblogged this from doyoubelieveinnargles
-
doyoubelieveinnargles reblogged this from beccabatchofpancakes
-
beccabatchofpancakes reblogged this from youngcontrarian
-
jx20equalscloudx reblogged this from youngcontrarian
-
youbringthemadness likes this
-
ilaughinthefaceofnormal reblogged this from downthetelescope
-
xdauntless likes this
-
imstillat-thatpayphone reblogged this from real-or-not-real-always
-
real-or-not-real-always reblogged this from youngcontrarian
-
cladellain likes this
-
downthetelescope reblogged this from youngcontrarian
-
youngcontrarian posted this