William Shakespeare Quotes
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There's daggers in men's smiles.
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But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.
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What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
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Faith, I have been a truant in the law And never yet could frame my will to it, And therefore frame the law unto my will.
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Mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view.
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Sometimes when we are labeled, when we are branded our brand becomes our calling.
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Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
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Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure; let us be jocund
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So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
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Women are not In their best fortunes strong, but want will perjure the ne'er-touched vestal.
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Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.
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Base men being in love have then a nobility in their natures more than is native to them.
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Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! And to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead!
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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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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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Et tu Brute! (You too, Brutus!)
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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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You speak like a green girl / unsifted in such perilous circumstances.
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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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For the success, Although particular, shall give a scantling Of good or bad unto the general; And in such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the giant mass Of things to come at large.
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There's never a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave.
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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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'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase; you vile standing-tuck!
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This act is an ancient tale new told; And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.