William Shakespeare Quotes
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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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Drink down all unkindness.
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Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love. That inward beauty and invisible; Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move each part in me that were but sensible: Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see, yet should I be in love by touching thee. 'Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me, and that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, and nothing but the very smell were left me, yet would my love to thee be still as much; for from the stillitory of thy face excelling comes breath perfum'd that breedeth love by smelling.
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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 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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Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!
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I see a man's life is a tedious one.
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What is the city but the people?
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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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Courage and comfort, all shall yet go well
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I cannot speak your england.
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Love hath made thee a tame snake
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These violent delights have violent ends.
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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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Now is the winter of our discontent.
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That which is now a horse, even with a thought The rack dislimms, and makes it indistinct As water is in water
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Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away
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The dullness of the fool is the whetstone of the wits.
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Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles.
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The object of Art is to give life a shape.
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No villainous bounty yet hath passed my heart; Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.
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There's rosemary and rue. These keep Seeming and savor all the winter long. Grace and remembrance be to you.
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Love and meekness, lord, Become a churchman better than ambition: Win straying souls with modesty again, Cast none away.
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Can it be That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary And pitch our evils there?