William Shakespeare Quotes
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Then with the losers let it sympathize, For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
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Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity?
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Nothing can seem foul to those who win.
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Weep I cannot; But my heart bleeds.
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Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest. Evils that take leave, On their departure most of all show evil.
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The seeming truth which cunning times put on to entrap the wisest.
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Like Patience gazing on kings' graves, and smiling Extremity out of act.
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Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. O these deliberate fools!
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When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought.
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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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Thus did I keep my person fresh and new, My presence, like a robe pontifical, Ne'er seen but wondered at, and so my state, Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast.
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Come, gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness.
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My business was great, and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
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To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
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The Hebrew will turn Christian; he grows kind.
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Anger's my meat. I sup upon myself, And so shall starve with feeding.
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Why, then the world ’s mine oyster, Which I with sword will open.
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For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.
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And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, — I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
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GLOUCESTER: I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds, More than the infant that is born to-night: I thank my God for my humility.
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This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven.
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I pardon him, as God shall pardon me.
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Lord Polonius: What do you read, my lord? Hamlet: Words, words, words. Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord? Hamlet: Between who? Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
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Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favor, dream as I have done; Wake, and find nothing.