William Shakespeare Quotes

Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?

So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.

Tis a cruelty to load a fallen man.

Well could he ride, and often men would say, "That horse his mettle from his rider takes: Proud of subjection, noble by the sway, What rounds, what bounds, what course, what stop he makes!" And controversy hence a question takes, Whether the horse by him became his deed, Or he his manage by the well-doing steed.

Things in motion sooner catch the eye than what not stirs.

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano!

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom.

Farewell, fair cruelty.

I cannot speak your england.

And it is very much lamented,... That you have no such mirrors as will turn Your hidden worthiness into your eye That you might see your shadow.

. . from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done.

They are sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing.

Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love. That inward beauty and invisible; Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move each part in me that were but sensible: Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see, yet should I be in love by touching thee. 'Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me, and that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch, and nothing but the very smell were left me, yet would my love to thee be still as much; for from the stillitory of thy face excelling comes breath perfum'd that breedeth love by smelling.

Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.

We few. We happy few. We band of brothers, for he today That sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.

Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find.

She's gone. I am abused, and my relief must be to loathe her.

Of chastity, the ornaments are chaste.

Go, bid the soldiers shoot.

Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe

The means that heaven yields must be embraced, and not neglected; else, if heaven would, and we will not heaven's offer, we refuse the proffered means of succor and redress.

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is slicked o'er with the pale cast of thought

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.

Suffer love; a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.

What the vengeance, could he not speak 'em fair?

Here comes Monseiur Le Beau. Rosalind: With his mouth full of news. Celia: Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. Rosalind: Then shall we be news-crammed. Celia: All the better; we shall be the more marketable.

A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun

Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.

Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit that mutinies in a man's bosom. It fills a man full of obstacles. It made me once restore a purse of gold that (by chance) I found. It beggars any man that keeps it.

How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!

He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. He that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.

Nature does require her times of preservation.

I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes—and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.

Here's flowers for you; Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram; The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age.

A young man married is a man that's marred.

Ask me no reason why I love you; for though Love use Reason for his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor.

The miserable have no other medicine But only hope.

Sometimes, less is more.

O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?

The readiness is all.

Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand, And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover's fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be!

The present eye praises the present object.

All the world's a stage ... and you better have a zoning variance or it's coming down.

Love sees with the heart and not with mind.

Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep?

O powerful love, that in some respects makes a beast a man, in some other, a man a beast.

I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My figured goblets for a dish of wood, My scepter for a palmer's walking staff My subjects for a pair of carved saints and my large kingdom for a little grave.