William Shakespeare Quotes
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This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents.
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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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You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above a common bound.
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A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.
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When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.
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The jury passing on the prisoner's life may in the sworn twelve have a thief or two guiltier than him they try.
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Do not banish reason for inequality; but let your reason serve to make the truth appear where it seems hid, and hide the false seems true.
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Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness.
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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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Give to a gracious message An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell Themselves when they be felt.
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Hereditary sloth instructs me.
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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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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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Life's uncertain voyage.
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Who is it can read a woman?
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Never; he will not: Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety: other women cloy The appetites they feed: but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies.
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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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The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
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Is she not passing fair?
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A good leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will turn white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow: but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon, — for it shines bright, and never changes, but keeps his course truly.
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The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
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While we lie tumbling in the hay.
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No, Cassius; for the eye sees not itself, But by reflection, by some other things.
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Mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view.