William Shakespeare Quotes
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How poor are they that have have not patients.
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If we are mark'd to die, we are enow To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee; wish not one man more.
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Man, proud man, drest in a little brief authority, most ignorant of what he's most assur d, glassy essence, like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, as make the angels weep.
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What's the newest grief? Each minute tunes a new one.
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My free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of wax; no levelled malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
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A sympathy in choice.
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It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
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Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, To make my end too sudden.
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I love him for his sake; And yet I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him That they take place when virtue's steely bones Looks bleak i' th' cold wind; withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
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We fail! But screw your courage to the sticking-place, And we'll not fail.
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I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world; And, for because the world is populous, And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out.
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Falsehood falsehood cures
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Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.
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Good wine is a good familiar creature if it be well used.
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My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul.
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I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting
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O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.
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Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.
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Music, moody food Of us that trade in love.
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"Fair, kind, and true" is all my argument, "Fair, kind, and true" varying to other words; And in this change is my invention spent, Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.
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I do beseech you- Though I perchance am vicious in my guess , that your wisdom yet From one that so imperfectly conjects Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
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I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.
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The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
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For trust not him that hath once broken faith