William Shakespeare Quotes
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There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
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I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
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Drink down all unkindness.
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Affection is a coal that must be cooled; else, suffered, it will set the heart on fire.
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Be to yourself as you would to your friend.
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A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, Arrested by the holy close of lips, Strength'ned by the interchangement of your rings, And all the ceremony of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony.
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Tongues I'll hang on every tree That shall civil sayings show. . . .
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So, you are very welcome to our house. It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.
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I have pursued her, as love hath pursued me
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He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.
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Be still prepared for death: and death or life shall thereby be the sweeter.
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The end crowns all, And that old common arbitrator, Time, Will one day end it.
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I pray you bear me henceforth from the noise and rumour of the field, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part of this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires.
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Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
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Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
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Summer's lease hath all too short a date.
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Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue but moody and dull melancholy, kinsman to grim and comfortless despair.
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Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
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Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard, and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues Have I liked several women; never any With so full soul but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil.
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Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness, serious vanity, Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms, Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health, Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
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There is a tide in the affairs of men
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Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger; And danger, like an ague, subtly taints Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
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Thou art sad; get thee a wife, get thee a wife!
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Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe