William Shakespeare Quotes
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Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.
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I am giddy, expectation whirls me round. The imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense.
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I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.
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The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will, the story shall be changed: Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase; The dove pursues the griffin; the mild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger; bootless speed, When cowardice pursues and valour flies.
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And I will make it felony to drink small beer.
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I say there is no darkness but ignorance.
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As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.
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Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
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Few love to hear the sins they love to act.
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Thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, With ravishing division, to her lute.
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Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper, as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us 't were all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues; nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence, But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor - Both thanks and use.
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Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.
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It is the disease of not listening...... that I am troubled with.
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Take all the swift advantage of the hours.
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O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch! Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice?
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There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail.
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Society is no comfort, to one not sociable.
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Aand in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?
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Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness.
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Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare, To digg the dust encloased heare! Blest be the man that spares thes stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.
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Myself--a prince by fortune of my birth, Near to the king in blood, and near in love Till you did make him misinterpret me-- Have stooped my neck under your injuries And sighed my English breath in foreign clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment, Whilst you have fed upon my signories, Disparked my parks and felled my forest woods, From my own windows torn my household coat, Rased out my imprese, leaving me no sign, Save men's opinions and my living blood, To show the world I am a gentleman.
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Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire; that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
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Presume not that I am the thing I was.
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Love hath made thee a tame snake