William Shakespeare Quotes
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One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.
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But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
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I dote on his very absence.
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But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
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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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The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby, Knowing that with the shadow of his wings He can at pleasure stint their melody: Even so mayest thou the giddy men of Rome.
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What hands are here? ha! they pluck out mine eyes! Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.” “My hands are of your colour; but I shame to wear a heart so white. A little water clears us of this deed: How easy it is then! Your constancy hath left you unattended.
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I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answered.
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How poor are they that have have not patients.
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And what’s he then that says I play the villain?
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Come, Lady, die to live.
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Falsehood falsehood cures
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Society is no comfort, to one not sociable.
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I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad and to travel for it too!
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Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more than such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.
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These times of woe afford no time to woo.
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Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all.
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I would not lose so great an honor As one man more methinks would share with me For the best hope I have.
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The gallantry of his grief did put me into a towering passion.
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While thou livest keep a good tongue in thy head.
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O, call back yesterday, bid time return
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O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 'Tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter; What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies not plenty; Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.
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Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all!
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If music be the food of love, play on.