William Shakespeare Quotes
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For there's no motion That tends to vice in man, but I affirm It is the woman's part.
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This day I breathed first: time is come round, And where I did begin there shall I end; My life is run his compass.
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How now, wit! Whither wander you?
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For by his face straight shall you know his heart.
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The plants look up to heaven, from whence they have their nourishment.
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Swift as shadow, short as any dream
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Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.
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Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
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In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
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Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.
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There should be hours for necessities, not for delights; times to repair our nature with comforting repose, and not for us to waste these times.
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Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast, Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last.
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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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There's an old saying that applies to me: you can't lose a game if you don't play the game. (Act 1, scene 4)
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In right and service to their noble country.
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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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Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body's work's expir'd: For then my thoughts-from far where I abide- Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see: Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous and her old face new. Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself no quiet find.
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If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage.
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Well, God's above all; and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
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Love sees with the heart and not with mind.
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Master, go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
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When most I wink, then do my eyes best see
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To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
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Men at sometime are the masters of their fate.