William Shakespeare Quotes
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What can be avoided Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods?
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Live loath'd and long, Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, You fools of fortune, trencher friends, time flies Cap and knee slaves, vapors, and minute jacks.
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Silence is the perfectest herault of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.
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O, teach me how you look, and with what art You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart."-Helena
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The play's the thing.
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Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.
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O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the Devil!
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Every subject's duty is the Kings, but every subject's soul is his own.
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But since the affairs of men rests still incertain, Let's reason with the worst that may befall.
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Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
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I wish you well and so I take my leave, I Pray you know me when we meet again.
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Your cause of sorrow must not be measured by his worth, for then it hath no end.
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A good heart is the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun and not the moon, for it shines bright and never changes.
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The big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose, In piteous chase.
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He hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink; his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts. (Shakespeare, Love's Labor's Lost, IV)
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I count myself in nothing else so happy as in a soul remembering my good Friends
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Constant you are, But yet a woman; and for secrecy, No lady closer; for I well believe Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know.
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What made me love thee? let that persuade thee, there's something extraordinary in thee
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Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs, and we all but food; They eat us hungerly, and when they are full They belch us.
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Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
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O my good lord, that comfort comes too late, 'Tis like a pardon after execution. That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me; But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.
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Hang him, swaggering rascal!
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Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find.
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Well could he ride, and often men would say, "That horse his mettle from his rider takes: Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!" And controversy hence a question takes, Whether the horse by him became his deed, Or he his manage by the well-doing steed.