William Shakespeare Quotes
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I wonder that you will still be talking. Nobody marks you.
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Nor shall this peace sleep with her; but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new-create another heir As great in admiration as herself.
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A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's More pregnantly than words.
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All dark and comfortless.
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I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
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Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.
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Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone.
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Were it good To set the exact wealth of all our states All at one cast? to set so rich a main On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? It were not good.
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Things may serve long, but not serve ever.
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It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears! -Romeo
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The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.
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The prize of all too precious you.
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All's well if all ends well.
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Avaunt, you cullions!
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She cannot love, nor take no shape nor project or affection, she is so self-endeared.
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Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
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From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud pied April, dressed in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing.
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There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
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To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers' pride, Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd In process of the seasons have I seen, Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
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Out of this nettle - danger - we pluck this flower - safety.
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I'll make death love me; for I will contend Even with his pestilent scythe.
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Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.
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Had it pleas'd heaven To try me with affliction * * * I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience.
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Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee!