William Shakespeare Quotes
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No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
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We will all laugh at gilded butterflies.
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'By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible true, that thou art beauteous truth itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal.
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Nothing in his life became him like leaving it.
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Welcome ever smiles, and farewell goes out sighing.
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Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal.
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No doubt they rose up early to observe the rite of May; and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity.
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. . from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done.
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Still constant is a wondrous excellence.
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I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
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Let us not burden our remembrances with a heaviness that's gone.
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For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase.
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I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?
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O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
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Tis the mind that makes the body rich.
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What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts.
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How hard it is to hide the sparks of Nature!
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O horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee!
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Time, whose millioned accidents creep in betwixt vows, and change decrees of kings, tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharpest intents, divert strong minds to the course of altering things.
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Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud; And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
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Love asks me no questions, and gives me endless support.
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The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose, And on old Hiems' thin and icy crown An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds Is, as in mockery, set. The spring, the summer, The childing autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries, and the mazed world, By their increase, now knows not which is which.
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The earth, that is nature's mother, is her tomb.
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Can I go forward when my heart is here?