All Quotes By Tag: Viola

“This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;And to do that well craves a kind of wit:He must observe their mood on whom he jests,The quality of persons, and the time,And, like the haggard, check at every featherThat comes before his eye. This is a practiseAs full of labour as a wise man’s artFor folly that he wisely shows is fit;But wise men, folly-fall’n, quite taint their wit.”

“HELP!”I race to the square, crossing it, looking all around, listening out-No.No.It’s empty.Viola’s breathing heavy in my arms .And Haven is empty.I reach the middle of the square.I don’t see nor hear a soul.I spin around again.“HELP!” I cry.But there’s no one.Haven’s completely empty.There ain’t hope here after all.”

“His noise is getting quieter, but I can still see it there still-See how he feels the skin of my hand against his, see how he wants to take it and press it against his mouth, how he wants to breathe in the smell of me and how beautiful I look to him, how strong after all that illness, and how he wants to just lightly touch my neck, just there, and how he wants to take me in his arms and-“Oh, God,” he says, looking away suddenly. “Viola, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“But I just put my hand to the back of his neck-And he says, “Viola-?”And I pull myself towards him-And I kiss him.And it feels like, finally.”