William Shakespeare Quotes
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Of all the fair resort of gentlemen That every day with parle encounter me, In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
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O, reason not the need!
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Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs?
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The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits.
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Friends now fast sworn, Whose double bosoms seems to wear one heart, Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal and exercise Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love, Unseparable, shall within this hour, On a dissension of a doit, break out To bitterest enmity; so fellest foes, Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep To take the one the other, by some chance, Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends And interjoin their issues.
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The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good. Pity is the virtue of the law, and none but tyrants use it cruelly.
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Oh! it offends me to the soul to hear a robust periwig-pated fellow, tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings.
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Be collected. No more amazement. Tell your piteous heart There's no harm done.
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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun.
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If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?
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Time does not have the same appeal for every one
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For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
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I will be free, even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.
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Fire that's closest kept burns most of all.
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When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.
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O Lord that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!
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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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I profess not talking: only this, Let each man do his best.
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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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All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.
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When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand.
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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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Report of fashions in proud Italy Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation Limps after in base imitation
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A dream itself is but a shadow.