William Shakespeare Quotes

Think'st thou it honourable for a noble manStill to remember wrongs?

The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.

The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.

This thing of darkness I Acknowledge mine.

Present mirth hath present laughter. What's to come is still unsure.

Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard, and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear; for several virtues Have I liked several women; never any With so full soul but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil.

Well, while I live I'll fear no other thingSo sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.

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.

Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.

Having nothing, nothing can he lose.

Though I am not naturally honest, I am sometimes so by chance.

To be generous, guiltless, and of a free disposition is to take those things for bird-bolts that you deem cannon-bullets.

Nothing can seem foul to those who win.

There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.

O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with passion would I shake the world, And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, Which scorns a modern invocation.

A hit, a very palpable hit.

Oh, flatter me; for love delights in praises.

Our rash faultsMake trivial price of serious thing we have,Not knowing them until we know their grave.

The attempt and not the deed confounds us.

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber.

All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told.

Courage mounteth with occasion.

The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.

Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

As love is full of unbefitting strains,All wanton as a child, skipping and vain,Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the eye,Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,Varying in subjects as the eye doth rollTo every varied object in his glance

Daffodils,That come before the swallow dares, and takeThe winds of March with beauty.

O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do.

Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts.

Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs.

Then to Silvia let us sing that Silvia is excelling. She excels each mortal thing upon the dull earth dwelling.

To pore upon a book, to seek the light of truth.

It is certain that either wise bearing or ignorant carriage is caught as men take diseases, one of another.

I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.The secret mischiefs that I set abroachI lay unto the grievous charge of others.

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts. There's fennel for you, and columbines: — there 's rue for you; and here's some for me: — we may call it, herb of grace o'Sundays: — you may wear your rue with a difference. — There's a daisy: — I would give you some violets; but they withered all, when my father died: — They say, he made a good end.

Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness! This is the state of man: today he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, tomorrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And - when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening - nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.

Well, honor is the subject of my story.

Ambition, the soldier's virtue.

ROMEO to BALTHASAR But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I further shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs: The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

He does it with better grace, but I do it more natural.

Myself will straight aboard, and to the stateThis heavy act with heavy heart relate.

Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short; youth is nimble, age is lame; Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold; Youth is wild, and age is tame.

I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.

I am a foe to tyrants, and my country's friend.

Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.

What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fishlike smell; a kind of not of the newest poor-John. A strange fish!

Great griefs medicine the less.

The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue!

The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.

Slanders, sir, for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging think amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.

O, had I but followed the arts!

So, you are very welcome to our house. It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.

Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies!

What is more miserable than discontent?

To beguile the time, look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue.

The fewer men, the greater share of honor.

The wind-shak'd surge, with high and monstrous main,Seems to cast water on the burning Bear,And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole.

And teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night.

Thy tongueMakes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,With ravishing division, to her lute.

Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.

A tardiness in nature,Which often leaves the history unspoke,That it intends to do.