William Shakespeare Quotes
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You have witchcraft in your lips
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Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth
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He that is proud eats up himself: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle.
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The patient must minister to himself
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An overflow of good converts to bad.
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The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.
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We are not ourselves When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind To suffer with the body.
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Not proud you have, but thankful that you have. Proud can I never be of what I hate, but thankful even for hate that is meant love.
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When beggars die, there are no comets seen; the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
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Where is Polonius? HAMLET In heaven. Send hither to see. If your messenger find him not there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But if indeed you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby.
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What's the newest grief? Each minute tunes a new one.
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Let me confess that we two must be twain, although our undivided loves are one.
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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.
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The bay-trees in our country are all withered, And meteors fright the fixèd stars of heaven. The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth, And lean-looked prophets whisper fearful change. Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap; The one in fear to lose what they enjoy, The other to enjoy by rage and war. These signs forerun the death or fall of kings.
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My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.
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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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What's the news? None, my lord, but that the world's grown honest, Then is doomsday near.
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I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.
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My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul.
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I had rather eleven died nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action.
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Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?
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But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'? I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen' Stuck in my throat.
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Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search.
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I am sure, Though you can guess what temperance should be, You know not what it is.