William Shakespeare Quotes
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Good wombs have borne bad sons." -- (Miranda, I:2)
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What a fool honesty is.
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The villany you teach me I shall execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.
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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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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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When I waked, I cried to dream again
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Honesty is not the best policy - merely the safest
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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.
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In nature's infinite book of secrecy A little I can read.
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Our very eyes Are sometimes, like our judgments, blind.
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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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I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true.
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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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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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Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return to plague the inventor.
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A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.
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Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing of her gallèd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
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The violence of either grief or joy, their own enactures with themselves destroy.
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Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, but still remember what the Lord hath done.
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Self – love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self – neglecting.
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When I got enough confidence, the stage was gone. When I was sure of losing, I won. When I needed people the most, they left me. When I learnt to dry my tears, I found a shoulder to cry on. And when I mastered the art of hating, somebody started loving me.
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What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time?
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Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness.
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The southern wind Doth play the trumpet to his purposes; And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves, Foretells a tempest and a blustering day.