William Shakespeare Quotes
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Never anything can be amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it.
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Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?
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Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave My heart into my mouth.
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I do desire we may be better strangers.
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Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat.
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Because it is a customary cross, As die to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.
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What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within's two hours.
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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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Pride went before, ambition follows him.
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I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; not the soldier's which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, which, by often rumination, wraps me in a most humorous sadness.
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Life every man holds dear; but the dear man holds honor far more precious dear than life.
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To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.
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Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment.
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Shall we upon the footing of our land Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, Insinuation, parley, and base truce, To arms invasive?
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I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.
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Sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
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Desire of having is the sin of covetousness.
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By the apostle Paul, shadows tonight Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers.
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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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Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.
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O, how I faint when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, And in the praise thereof spends all his might To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame.
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O, let him pass. He hates him That would upon the rack of this tough world Stretch him out longer.
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Time be thine, And thy best graces spend it at thy will.
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The moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven.