William Shakespeare Quotes
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He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
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O England! Model to thy inward greatness, like little body with a might heart.
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Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou com'st. Suppose the singing birds musicians, The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strewed, The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more Than a delight measure or a dance; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
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Commit the oldest sins the newest kind of ways.
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A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.
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O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.
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Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.
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I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.
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O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce.
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Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions.
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That affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence.
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I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; so full of valor that they smote the air, for breathing in their faces, beat the ground for kissing of their feet.
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Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.
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Wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.
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So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.
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Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys; renown, and grace is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
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Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove.
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If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.
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If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts against their father, fool me not so much to bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger, and let not women's weapons, water drops, stain my man's cheeks.
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O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh
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My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest, Out of hope of all but my share of the feast.
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On Rumor's tongue continual slanders ride.
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Gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman.
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But no perfection is so absolute, That some impurity doth not pollute.