William Shakespeare Quotes

Lord Bacon told Sir Edward Coke when he was boasting, The less you speak of your greatness, the more shall I think of it.

'Tis one thing to be tempted, another thing to fall.

Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful

This we prescribe, though no physician; Deep malice makes too deep incision; Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed; Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.

Presume not that I am the thing I was.

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

If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.

All that glitters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life has sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold Had you been as wise as bold, Your in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been in'scroll'd Fare you well: your suit is cold.' Cold, indeed, and labour lost: Then, farewell, heat and welcome, frost!

Life every man holds dear; but the dear man holds honor far more precious dear than life.

I never yet did hear, That the bruis'd heart was pierced through the ear

Thoughts are but dreams till their effects are tried.

As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark...so many a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .

Men should be what they seem.

O, she misused me past the endurance of a block.

Sweetest nut hath sourest rind.

Under loves heavy burden do I sink. --Romeo

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel: Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved him! This was the most unkindest cut of all

Appetite, a universal wolf.

The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desired.

Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.

Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod.

What's gone, and what's past help, Should be past grief.

And how his audit stands who knows, save Heaven?

When I waked, I cried to dream again

My love is deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.

Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.

Pain pays the income of each precious thing.

Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy. But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality; Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell ... Or say with princes if it shall go well.

Your praises will become your wages.

Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly; it strikes where it doth love.

My father names me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.

Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing of her gallèd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!

I knew when seven justices could not take up a quarrel, but when the parties were met themselves, one of them thought but of an If, as, 'If you said so, then I said so;' and they shook hands and swore brothers. Your If is the only peacemaker; much virtue in If.

It is not vain glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber.

The Eyes are the window to your soul

Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares.

Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, For things that are not to be remedied.

I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely.

My meaning in saying he is a good man, is to have you understand me that he is sufficient.

To be furious, is to be frighted out of fear.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.

Say she rail; why, I'll tell her plain She sings as sweetly as a nightingale. Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew. Say she be mute and will not speak a word; Then I'll commend her volubility, and say she uttereth piercing eloquence.

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burnt on the water.

Thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.

Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that.