Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
This above all; to thine own self be true.
Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises.
A beggar's book outworths a noble's blood.
Passion makes the will lord of the reason.
I will praise any man that will praise me.
The attempt and not the deed confounds us.
Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt.
A woman's thought runs before her actions.
He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter.
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.
Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn.
The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
We are such stuff that dreams are made of.
When most I wink, then do my eyes best see
If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark
I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways.
Use almost can change the stamp of nature.
To be, or not to be, that is the question.
None can cure their harms by wailing them.
I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
When the mind's free, The Body's delicate.
If thou dost love, proclaim it faithfully.
An old black ram is tupping your white ewe
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.
I feel it gone, yet know not when it left.
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun
One pain is lessened by another's anguish.
Take all the swift advantage of the hours.
Courage and comfort, all shall yet go well
O tiger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide!
Hell is empty and all the devils are here.
T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.
Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.
There's many a man has more hair than wit.
Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.
[Marriage is] a world-without-end bargain.
The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
The object of Art is to give life a shape.
For sorrow ends not, when it seemeth done.
Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.
Heaven - the treasury of everlasting life.
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
She speaks poniards, and every word stabs.
O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries.