William Shakespeare Quotes
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There is nothing in the world so much like prayer as music is. ~William Shakespeare
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We are advertis'd by our loving friends.
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I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
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What, man, defy the devil. Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.
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The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us.
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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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See where she comes apparelled like the spring.
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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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And to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.
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I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
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Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
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Fair Katherine, and most fair, Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms Such as will enter at a lady's ear, And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
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Make not your thoughts your prisons.
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There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.
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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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O God of battles! steel my soldiers’ hearts. Possess them not with fear.
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You may my Glories and my State depose, But not my Griefes; still am I King of those.
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They say miracles are past.
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He does it with better grace, but I do it more natural.
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What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sells eternity to get a toy? For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy? Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown, Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?