William Shakespeare Quotes
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After your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.
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They are but beggars that can count their worth.
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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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A peace is of the nature of a conquest; for then both parties nobly are subdued, and neither party loser.
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This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, this Senior Junior, giant dwarf...Cupid.
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Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
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I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here, Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear.
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Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
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O, full of scorpions is my mind!
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Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood.
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Honesty is the best policy. If I lose mine honor, I lose myself.
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If I for my opinion bleed, opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, and keep me on the side where still I am.
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I am your wife if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow You may deny me, but I'll be your servant Whether you will or no.
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I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.(IAGO,ActI,SceneI)
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So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenced in stronds afar remote.
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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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When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry.
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To persevere In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness: 'tis unmanly grief.
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But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
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One fire burns out another's burning, One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish.
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Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
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I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
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I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting.
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Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits?" Malvolio: "Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art." Feste: "But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in you wits than a fool.