William Shakespeare Quotes
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To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
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Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure; let us be jocund
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This is a way to kill a wife with kindness.
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Sometimes when we are labeled, when we are branded our brand becomes our calling.
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Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
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Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.
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When devils will the blackest sins put on They do suggest at first with heavenly shows
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A Loud Laugh Bespeaks a Vacant Mind!
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The icy precepts of respect.
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Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him; some that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ice.
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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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To England will I steal, and there I'll steal.
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It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.
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In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.
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If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.
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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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In a false quarrel there is no true valor.
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They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.
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So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by.
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When I got enough confidence, the stage was gone. When I was sure of losing, I won. When I needed people the most, they left me. When I learnt to dry my tears, I found a shoulder to cry on. And when I mastered the art of hating, somebody started loving me.
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Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.
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Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief
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I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!
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The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.