William Shakespeare Quotes
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But love that comes too late, Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, To the great sender turns a sour offense, Crying, 'That's good that's gone.
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And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
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The sweat of industry would dry and die, But for the end it works to.
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Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; But life, being weary of these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
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I kissed thee ere I killed thee. No way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.
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If we are mark'd to die, we are enow To do our country loss; and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee; wish not one man more.
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My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel; I know not where I am nor what I do.
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Tempt not a desperate man.
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O, let me kiss that hand! KING LEAR: Let me wipe it first; it smells of mortality.
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Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou com'st. Suppose the singing birds musicians, The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strewed, The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more Than a delight measure or a dance; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
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These signs have marked me extraordinary, And all the courses of my life do show I am not in the roll of common men.
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The wheel is come full circle.
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You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; And being men, hearing the will of Caesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad.
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Well could he ride, and often men would say, "That horse his mettle from his rider takes: Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!" And controversy hence a question takes, Whether the horse by him became his deed, Or he his manage by the well-doing steed.
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In jest, there is truth.
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And writers say, as the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes.
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O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love... 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.
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We are oft to blame in this, - 'tis too much proved, - that with devotion's visage, and pios action we do sugar o'er the devil himself.
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Drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things . . . nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance.
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Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the very day that young Hamlet was born, he that is mad and sent into England." "Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?" "Why, because he was mad. He shall recover his wits there, or, if he do not, it's no great matter there." "Why?" "'Twill not be seen in him there. There the men are as mad as he.
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So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.
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Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.
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So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
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Thou knowest, winter tames man, woman, and beast.