William Shakespeare Quotes
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It is meant that noble minds keep ever with their likes; for who so firm that cannot be seduced.
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When rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will
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O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil.
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Kent. Where's the king? Gent. Contending with the fretful elements; Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, That things might change or cease; tears his white hair, Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, Catch in their fury and make nothing of; Strives in his little world of man to outscorn The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, The lion and the belly-pinched wolf Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, And bids what will take all.
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Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.
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Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.
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How strange or odd some'er I bear myself, As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on.
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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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Hast any philosophy in thee shepherd? .• • • • . . . He that wants money, means and content, is without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.
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We will all laugh at gilded butterflies.
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It may do good; pride hath no other glass To show itself but pride, for supple knees Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees.
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Faith, there hath been many great men that have flattered the people who ne'er loved them.
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Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.
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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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How sometimes nature will betray its folly, Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms!
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Speak low, if you speak love.
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Let every man be master of his time.
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Few love to hear the sins they love to act.
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For who so firm that cannot be seduced?
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Sin will pluck on sin.