William Shakespeare Quotes
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Death makes no conquest of this conqueror: For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
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Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens, to the which our wills are gardeners: so that if we will plant nettles, or sow lettuce, set hyssop and weed up tine, supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract it with many, either to have it sterile with idleness, or manured with industry, why, the power and corrigible authority of this lies in our wills.
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It provokes the desire but it takes away the performance. Therefore much drink may be said to be an equivocator with lechery: it makes him and it mars him; it sets him on and it takes him off.
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For now I stand as one upon a rock environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
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To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.
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it is my lady! *sighs* o, it is my love! o, that she knew she were! she speaks, yet she sais nothing. what of that? her eye discourses; i will answer it. i am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks; two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return.
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Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .
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The icy precepts of respect.
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This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents.
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You had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.
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So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
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If I for my opinion bleed, opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, and keep me on the side where still I am.
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Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
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Some men there are love not a gaping pig, some that are mad if they behold a cat, and others when the bagpipe sings I the nose cannot contain their urine.
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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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Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil.
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The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
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This is a way to kill a wife with kindness.
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Now, infidel, I have you on the hip!
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If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
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Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.
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He that dies pays all debts.
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O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
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Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.