William Shakespeare Quotes
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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.
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So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
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You speak like a green girl / unsifted in such perilous circumstances.
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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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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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Strikes deeper, grows with more pernicious root.
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O, that our fathers would applause our loves, To seal our happiness with hteir consents!
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Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.
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There's not a shirt and a half in all my company, and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves.
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What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time?
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Life's uncertain voyage.
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The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.
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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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The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
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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 never merry when I hear sweet music.
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Et tu Brute! (You too, Brutus!)
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Make use of time, let not advantage slip; Beauty within itself should not be wasted: Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime Rot and consume themselves in little time.
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In a false quarrel there is no true valor.
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There's never a villain dwelling in all Denmark But he's an arrant knave.
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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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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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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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Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.