William Shakespeare Quotes
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But jealous souls will not be answered so, They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they're jealous. 'Tis a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.
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Love goes toward love.
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That is honor's scorn Which challenges itself as honor's born And is not like the sire. Honors thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers.
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Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams Driving back shadows over low'ring hills. Therefore do nimble-pinioned doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
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There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
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There is Throats to be cut, and Works to be done.
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The instances that second marriage move Are base respects of thrift, but none of love.
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Look on beauty, and you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight; which therein works a miracle in Nature, making them lightest that wear most of it: so are those crisped snaky golden locks which make such wanton gambols with the wind upon supposed fairness, often known to be the dowry of a second head, the skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
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Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares.
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How is it that the clouds still hang on you?
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Upon thy cheek I lay this zealous kiss, as seal to the indenture of my love.
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Wish chastely, and love dearly.
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I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me.
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The venom clamours of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.
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Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn the power of man.
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When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
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Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
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What's past and what's to come is strew'd with husks And formless ruin of oblivion.
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To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.
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And oft, my jealousy shapes faults that are not.
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It's easy for someone to joke about scars if they've never been cut.
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My dear, dear Lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation; that away Men are but gilded loan or painted clay... Mine honor is my life; both grow in one; Take honor from me, and my life is done.
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When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies.
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Travelers never did lie, though fools at home condemn them.