William Shakespeare Quotes
-
Will you walk out of the air, my lord? HAMLET Into my grave.
-
Tongues I'll hang on every tree That shall civil sayings show. . . .
-
Hung be the heavens with black! Yield, day, to night!
-
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain and nourish all the world.
-
To beguile the time, look like the time.
-
An overflow of good converts to bad.
-
A woman that is like a German clock, Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch, But being watched that it may still go right!
-
where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
-
And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury.
-
But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'? I had most need of blessing, and 'Amen' Stuck in my throat.
-
Better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak.
-
Sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue.
-
When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.
-
Temptation: the fiend at my elbow.
-
I begin to find an idle and fond bondage in the oppression of aged tyranny, who sways, not as it hath power, but as it is suffered.
-
Oh, God! I have an ill-divining soul!
-
The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.
-
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that craves wary walking.
-
Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? And the creature run from the cur. There thou mightst behold the great image of authority-a dog's obeyed in office.
-
Cease thy counsel, for thy words fall into my ears as priceless as water into a seive.
-
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.
-
Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow. Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put sullen black incontinent. I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after. Grace my mournings here In weeping after this untimely bier.
-
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
-
The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen As is the razor's edge invisible.