William Shakespeare Quotes
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When I waked, I cried to dream again
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Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.
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Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy.
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See the minutes, how they run, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live.
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If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.
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Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.
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I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true.
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Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.
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Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.
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Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
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Good wombs have borne bad sons." -- (Miranda, I:2)
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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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Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.
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This is a way to kill a wife with kindness.
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Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
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To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.
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Minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this!
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Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, but still remember what the Lord hath done.
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I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.
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A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.
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Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle.
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For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins Shall forth at vast of night that they may work All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.
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You must not think That we are made of stuff so fat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime.
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We must not stint Our necessary actions in the fear To cope malicious censurers, which ever, As rav'nous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new-trimmed, but benefit no further Than vainly longing.