William Shakespeare Quotes
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The voice of parents is the voice of gods, for to their children they are heaven's lieutenants.
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Why, I can smile and murder whiles I smile, And cry 'content' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face for all occasions
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Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.
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The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness, And in the taste confounds the appetite: Therefore love moderately – long love doth so.
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Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
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We suffer a lot the few things we lack and we enjoy too little the many things we have.
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Give them great meals of beef and iron and steel, they will eat like wolves and fight like devils.
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The mind of guilt is full of scorpions.
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When you fear a foe, fear crushes your strength; and this weakness gives strength to your opponents.
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I may neither choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike; so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.
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I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.
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Nothing comes from doing nothing.
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This thing of darkness I acknowlege mine. There is nothing more confining than the prison we don't know we are in.
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Through the forest have I gone. But Athenian found I none, On whose eyes I might approve This flower's force in stirring love. Night and silence.--Who is here? Weeds of Athens he doth wear: This is he, my master said, Despised the Athenian maid; And here the maiden, sleeping sound, On the dank and dirty ground. Pretty soul! she durst not lie Near this lack-love, this kill-courtesy. Churl, upon thy eyes I throw All the power this charm doth owe. When thou wakest, let love forbid Sleep his seat on thy eyelid: So awake when I am gone; For I must now to Oberon.
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Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath.
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I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip
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Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are!
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Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.
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Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
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Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.
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When I have plucked the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It needs must wither. I'll smell it on the tree.
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Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent.
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When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended. To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on. What cannot be preserved when fortune takes, Patience her injury a mockery makes. The robb'd that smiles steals something for the thief; He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
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Seems," madam? Nay, it is; I know not "seems." 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, Nor customary suits of solemn black, Nor windy suspiration of forced breath, No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, Nor the dejected 'havior of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, That can denote me truly: these indeed seem, For they are actions that a man might play: But I have that within which passeth show; These but the trappings and the suits of woe.