William Shakespeare Quotes
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O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with passion would I shake the world.
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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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How can tyrants safely govern home, Unless abroad they purchase great alliance.
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The prince of darkness is a gentleman!
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For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give.
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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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God defend me from that Welsh fairy, Lest he transform me to a piece of cheese!
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Sometimes when we are labeled, when we are branded our brand becomes our calling.
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Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.
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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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Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes; Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them — Ding-dong, bell.
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One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.
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Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.
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Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
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Ornament is but the guiled shore to a most dangerous sea.
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Fill all thy bones with aches.
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Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures And of so easy and so plain a stop That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavering multitude, Can play upon it.
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That strain again! It had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet as it was before.
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I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book! William Shakespeare
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The thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility; yet am I inland bred And know some nurture.
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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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Love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit.
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Let the sap of reason quench the fire of passion.
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And he goes through life, his mouth open, and his mind closed.