William Shakespeare Quotes
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She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.
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Never shame to hear what you have nobly done
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This is the third time; I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. Away; go. They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.
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Good wine needs no bush.
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Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But Lust's effect is tempest after sun; Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done; Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies; Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.
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Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds.
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Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime...
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Beshrew the heart that makes my heart to groan.
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O sleep! O gentle sleep! Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness? Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sound of sweetest melody?
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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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Eternity was in our lips and eyes, Bliss in our brows' bent; none our parts so poor But was a race of heaven.
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For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy.
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By that sin fell the angels.
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Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service
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Love is too young to know what conscience is.
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We cannot all be masters.
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Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you. Poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men.
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He is not great who is not greatly good.
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He reads much; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit That could be moved to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.
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Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
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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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Were it good To set the exact wealth of all our states All at one cast? to set so rich a main On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? It were not good.
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Ay, is it not a language I speak?
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To persist in doing wrong extenuates not the wrong, but makes it much more heavy.