William Shakespeare Quotes
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God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
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I care not, a man can die but once; we owe God and death.
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O, teach me how you look, and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart."-Helena
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To you your father should be as a god; One that composed your beauties, yea, and one To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure or disfigure it.
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Therefore it is most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself.
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Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
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The devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs--he will give the devil his due.
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Music, moody food Of us that trade in love.
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Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all!
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I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
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When faced with a sea of troubles, take action, and in so doing end it.
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But here's the joy: my friend and I are one, Sweet flattery!
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Be merry; you have cause, so have we all, of joy; for our escape is much beyond our loss . . . . then wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.
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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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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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Faults that are rich are fair.
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What light through yonder window breaks?
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Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in.
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I see men's judgments are A parcel of their fortunes; and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To suffer all alike.
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Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove.
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It is the disease of not listening...... that I am troubled with.
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O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul that, struggling to be free, art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart with strings of steel, be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
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Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
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What is the city but the people?