William Shakespeare Quotes
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a young woman in love always looks like patience on a monument smiling at grief
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A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross.
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Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. Then your love would also change.
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Retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave.
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And when love speaks, the voice of all the gods makes Heaven drowsy with the harmony.
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All of Creation’s a farce. Man was born as a joke. In his head his reason is buffeted Like wind-blown smoke. Life is a game. Everyone ridicules everyone else. But he who has the last laugh Laughs longest.
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That we would do We should do when we would, for this 'would' changes, And hath abatements and delays as many As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents, And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh, That hurts by easing.
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Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, truly, I love none. Beatrice: A dear happiness to women: they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that: I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me. -Much Ado About Nothing
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Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.
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Poise the cause in justice's equal scales, Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails.
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And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence
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Thoughts are but dreams till their effects are tried.
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O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
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You speak an infinite deal of nothing.
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Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.
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Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time.
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My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.
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Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth, And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, With windlasses and with assays of bias, By indirections find directions out.
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Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose. For whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed.
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You are an alchemist; make gold of that.
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Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.
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And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once That makes ingrateful man!
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Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious or bird fair, Be absent hence!
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Taste your legs, sire: put them into motion.