William Shakespeare Quotes
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The Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman; and to be King Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor.
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Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
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There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
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Et tu Brute! (You too, Brutus!)
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I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.
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This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
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Unquiet meals make ill digestions.
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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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Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
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I am a feather for each wind that blows
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To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
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Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
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Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor.
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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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I am as true as truth's simplicity, And simpler than the infancy of truth.
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Men judge by the complexion of the sky The state and inclination of the day.
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God mark thee to His grace! Thou was the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed. And might I live to see thee married once, I have my wish.
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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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I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true.
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Mercutio: "If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
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Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness.
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Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?
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For what is wedlock forced but a hell, An age of discord and continual strife? Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss, And is a pattern of celestial peace.
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The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.