William Shakespeare Quotes
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Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen can passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
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Tis the mind that makes the body rich.
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You told a lie, an odious damned lie; Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
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I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the oil that's in me should set hell on fire.
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Because I cannot flatter and look fair, Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, I must be held a rancorous enemy.
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In God's name cheerly on, courageous friends, To reap the harvest of perpetual peace By this one bloody trial of sharp war.
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It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears! -Romeo
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As he was valiant, I honour him. But as he was ambitious, I slew him.
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The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And Nature must obey necessity.
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Will Fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest terms?
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O Lord that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!
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I'll read enough When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.
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Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.
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In sooth I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me, you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn.
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This liberty is all that I request.
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That which I would discover The law of friendship bids me to conceal.
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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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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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Honor's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
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Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.
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A very little little let us do And all is done.
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Ever note, Lucilius, When love begins to sicken and decay It useth an enforced ceremony. There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, Make gallant show and promise of their mettle; But when they should endure the bloody spur, They fall their crests, and like deceitful jades Sink in the trial.
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A man cannot make him laugh; but that's no marvel; he drinks no wine.... If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them should be, to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack.
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Those that much covet are with gain so fond, For what they have not, that which they possess They scatter and unloose it from their bond, And so, by hoping more, they have but less; Or, gaining more, the profit of excess Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain, That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.