William Shakespeare Quotes
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Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks; her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body.
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A noble shalt thou have, and present pay; And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood.
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My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel; I know not where I am nor what I do.
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Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.
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Love moderately; long love doth so; too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.
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Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe
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Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief?
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O, Thou hast damnable iteration; and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint.
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O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven
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They have a plentiful lack of wit.
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The object of Art is to give life a shape.
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As there comes light from heaven and words from breath, As there is sense in truth and truth in virtue
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O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.
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Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.
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I have pursued her, as love hath pursued me
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A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.
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You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
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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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Summer's lease hath all too short a date.
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Before, I loved thee as a brother, John, But now, I do respect thee as my soul.
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I have thrust myself into this maze, Haply to wive and thrive as best I may.
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A very little little let us do And all is done.
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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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All is well ended if this suit be won. That you express content; which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day.