William Shakespeare Quotes
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The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
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To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.
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My salad days, When I was green in judgment.
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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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Affection is a coal that must be cooled; else, suffered, it will set the heart on fire.
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We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
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O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains!" - Cassio (Act II, Scene iii)
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I have almost forgotten the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would have cool’d to hear a night-shriek; and my fell of hair would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir as life were in’t: I have supt full with horrors; Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, cannot once start me.
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Vice repeated is like the wandering wind, blows dust in others' eyes to spread itself.
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Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all.
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Beware Of entrance to a quarrel.
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The weary sun hath made a golden set And by the bright tract of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.
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Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: Some run from brakes of ice, and answer none: And some condemned for a fault alone.
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No .... holy father, throw away that thought. Believe not that the dribbling dart of love Can pierce a complete bosom.
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Your "if" is the only peacemaker; much virtue in "if.
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We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
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Fortune reigns in gifts of the world.
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God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast, Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!
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Into what dangers would you lead me, Cassius, That you would have me seek into myself For that which is not in me?
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Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
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Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
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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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If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.
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Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: His faults lie open to the laws; let them, Not you, correct him.