William Shakespeare Quotes
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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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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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There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murder in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
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Where shall we three meet again in thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won
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He's of the colour of the nutmeg. And of the heat of the ginger.... he is pure air and fire; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him; he is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.
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She is your treasure, she must have a husband; I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day, And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell.
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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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An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
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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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Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?
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O for a horse with wings!
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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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Words spoken can not be recalled so think twice before you speak.
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Love adds a precious seeing to the eye.
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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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I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
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Being of no power to make his wishes good: His promises fly so beyond his state That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes For every word.
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I wonder that you will still be talking. Nobody marks you.
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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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The prize of all too precious you.