William Shakespeare Quotes
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That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by-and-by black night doth take away.
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Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men?
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[Marriage is] a world-without-end bargain.
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A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.
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A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm
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What light through yonder window breaks?
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Vice repeated is like the wandering wind, blows dust in others' eyes to spread itself.
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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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The leopard does not change his spots.
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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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The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law. - Romeo
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Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. *Here’s what love is: a smoke made out of lovers' sighs. When the smoke clears, love is a fire burning in your lover’s eyes. If you frustrate love, you get an ocean made out of lovers' tears. What else is love? It’s a wise form of madness. It’s a sweet lozenge that you choke on.*
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I am not prone to weeping as our sex commonly are; the want of which vain dew perchance shall dry your pities; but I have that honorable grief lodged here which burns worse than tears drown.
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Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear
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Fight to the last gasp.
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Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered!
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Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers, lacking--God warn us!--matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.
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A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; But were we burdened with light weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.
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Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service
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One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.
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Can it be chat modesty may more betray Our sense than woman's lightness?
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Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!
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Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens yet unset, With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers, Much liker than your painted counterfeit: So should the lines of life that life repair Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen Neither in inward worth nor outward fair Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
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As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.