William Shakespeare Quotes
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As I hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration, When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd Or Night kept chain'd below.
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Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal.
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So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate.
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The leopard does not change his spots.
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We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror.
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Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
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Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.
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Every fair from fair sometime declines
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Of all base passions, fear is the most accursed.
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This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh!
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Care for us! True, indeed! They ne'er cared for us yet: suffer us to famish, and their storehouses crammed with grain; make edicts for usury, to support usurers; repeal daily any wholesome act established against the rich, and provide more piercing statutes daily to chain up and restrain the poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; and there's all the love they bear us.
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He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere; Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.
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for my grief's so great That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. (Constance, from King John, Act III, scene 1)
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To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess
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Get thee glass eyes, and like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not.
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One half of me is yours, the other half is yours, Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours.
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Glory is like a circle in the water, which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, till, by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.
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Many strokes, though with a little axe, hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.
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A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dew falls everywhere.
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Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.