William Shakespeare Quotes
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No evil lost is wailed when it is gone.
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Guiltiness will speak, though tongues were out of use
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Hear the meaning within the word.
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He knows what it's like to strut and fret his hour upon the stage and then be heard no more.
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You're in love? Out Out of love? I love someone. She doesn't love me.
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[Thine] face is not worth sunburning.
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Truth hath a quiet breast.
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I do oppose My patience to his fury, and am arm'd To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, The very tyranny and rage of his.
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But we have reason to cool our raging motions, our carnal stings, our unbitted lusts; whereof I take this that you call love to bea sect or scion.... It is merely a lust of the blood and a permission of the will.
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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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To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
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Doubting things go ill often hurts more Than to be sure they do; for certainties Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing, The remedy then born.
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Then others for breath of words respect, Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
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A good sherris-sack hath a twofold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain,... makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes.
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Beauty within itself should not be wasted.
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But shall we wear these glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
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Now I am past all comforts here, but prayer.
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Fortune is merry, And in this mood will give us anything.
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If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do my liking. In the meantime, let me be that I am, and seek not toalter me.
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To take arms against a sea of troubles.
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Free from gross passion or of mirth of anger constant spirit, not swerving with the blood, garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment, not working with the eye without the ear, and but in purged judgement trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem.
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O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! And yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all hooping.
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O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
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Thou art a slave, whom fortune's tender arm With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.