William Shakespeare Quotes
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Faith, stay here this night; they will surely do us no harm; you saw they speak us fair, give us gold; methinks they are such a gentle nation that, but for the mountain of mad flesh that claims marriage of me, could find in my heart to stay here still and turn witch.
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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun.
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I can see his pride Peep through each part of him.
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Yet this my comfort: when your words are done, My woes end likewise with the evening sun.
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Love adds a precious seeing to the eye.
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For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.
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If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends; for when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend?
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Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won?
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Those that are good manners at the court are as ridiculous in the country, as the behavior of the country is most mockable at the court.
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it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance
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Your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole.
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Beauty's a doubtful good, a glass, a flower, Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour; And beauty, blemish'd once, for ever's lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.
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Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
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For I can raise no money by vile means. By heaven, I had rather coin my heart, And drop my blood for drachmas
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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date . . .
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Have I thought long to see this morning’s face, And doth it give me such a sight as this?
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Well, honor is the subject of my story.
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But there is no such man; for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, Their counsel turns to passion, which before Would give preceptial medicine to rage, Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, Charm ache with air and agony with words.
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Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off ... Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust.
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Women speak two languages - one of which is verbal.
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Conscience is a thousand swords.
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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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The Foole doth thinke he is wise, but the wiseman knowes himselfe to be a Foole.
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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.