William Shakespeare Quotes
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Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
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Minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this!
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So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend, or be rid on't.
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Our very eyes Are sometimes, like our judgments, blind.
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Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.
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With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.
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Truth will come to sight; murder cannot be hid long.
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I will despair, and be at enmity With cozening hope.
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The means that heaven yields must be embraced, and not neglected; else, if heaven would, and we will not heaven's offer, we refuse the proffered means of succor and redress.
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You Jig, you amble, and you lisp.
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He that is strucken blind can not forget the precious treasure of his eyesight lost.
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That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
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If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' th' shell.
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A very honest woman but something given to lie
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Sweet love! Sweet lines! Sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn.
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In nature's infinite book of secrecy A little I can read.
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The time is out of joint : O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!
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What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no.
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Her virtues, graced with external gifts, Do breed love's settled passions in my heart; And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, So am I driven by breath of her renown Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive Where I may have fruition of her love.
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The expedition of my violent love outrun the pauser, reason.
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I stalk about her door, like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.
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Love's not love When it is mingled with regards that stand Aloof from th' entire point.
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Wisely, I say, I am a bachelor.
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Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod.