William Shakespeare Quotes
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Mend when thou canst; be better at thy leisure.
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Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all, all shall die.
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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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O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
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Love each other in moderation. That is the key to long-lasting love. Too fast is as bad as too slow.
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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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I hourly learn a doctrine of obedience.
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Even through the hollow eyes of death I spy life peering.
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My charity is outrage, life my shame; And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!
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so full of shapes is fancy
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Were all the letters sun, I could not see one.
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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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From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
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I have heard it said There is an art which in their piedness shares With great creating nature.
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For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
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Rest you fair, good signior; Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
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If there is a good will, there is great way.
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Ay me! sad hours seem long.
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The Foole doth thinke he is wise, but the wiseman knowes himselfe to be a Foole.
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No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns.
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No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.
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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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The Brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing, and think it were not night.
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Love reasons without reason.