William Shakespeare Quotes
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For I am nothing if not critical.
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Virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
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He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear: And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy.
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What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*
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My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color.
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I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
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Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.... [W]hat can we bequeath, Save our deposed bodies to the ground?... [N]othing can we call our own, but death... [L]et us sit upon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of kings: - How some have been depos'd, some slain in war; Some haunted by the ghosts they have depos'd.
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Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy.
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Know more than other. Work more than other. Expect less than other
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The nature of bad news affects the teller.
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I almost die for food, and let me have it!
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But men are men; the best sometimes forget.
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Love adds a precious seeing to the eye.
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Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow; Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage.
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Set we forward; let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together. So through Lud's town march, And in the temple of the great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify, seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace.
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Beshrew the heart that makes my heart to groan.
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Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
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Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.
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O! that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come; But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.
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Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires.
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No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds?
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Every why has a wherefore.
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Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all, all shall die.
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There's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.