William Shakespeare Quotes
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The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
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I can see his pride Peep through each part of him.
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I have been long a sleeper; but I trust My absence doth neglect no great design Which by my presence might have been concluded.
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Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done.
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I cannot tell what you and other men Think of this life; but, for my single self, I had as lief not be as live to be In awe of such a thing as I myself.
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As in a theatre, the eyes of men, after a well-graced actor leaves the stage, are idly bent on him that enters next.
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She cannot love, nor take no shape nor project or affection, she is so self-endeared.
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All's well if all ends well.
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Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing; To his music, plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing, die.
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Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, that are written down old with all the characters of age?
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I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear
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Listen to many, speak to a few.
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Well, honor is the subject of my story.
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Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy.
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He that dies this year is quit for the next.
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You cannot make gross sins look clear: To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
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My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color.
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Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!
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Truth hath a quiet breast.
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Hang him, swaggering rascal!
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Men are April when they woo, December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.
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If you would persuade, you must appeal to interest rather than intellect. We are advertis'd by our loving friends.
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I thank you all and here dismiss you all, and to the love and favor of my country commit myself, my person, and the cause.
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The band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity.