William Shakespeare Quotes
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Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.
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Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies!
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I rather would entreat thy company; To see the wonders of the world abroad, Than, living dully sluggardized at home, Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
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And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.
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Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny. It hath been Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings.
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Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter.
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How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes ill deeds done!
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My crown is in my heart, not on my head; not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, nor to be seen: my crown is called content, a crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.
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Let me be boiled to death with melancholy.
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To England will I steal, and there I'll steal.
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Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this; for it will come to pass That every braggart will be found an ass.
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There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
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Greatness knows itself.
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Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.
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Be advised; Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself: we may outrun, By violent swiftness, that which we run at, And lose by over-running. Know you not, The fire that mounts the liquor til run o'er, In seeming to augment it wastes it?
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Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground.
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The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord! O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls Are level now with men; the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.
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I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends.
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Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the tailor make thy garments of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is opal.
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I do not set my life at a pin's fee, And for my soul, what can it do to that, Being a thing immortal as itself?
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I am as true as truth's simplicity, And simpler than the infancy of truth.
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I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people.
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She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam bad left him before he transgressed.
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Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.