Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
There is none but he Whose being I do fear; and under him My genius is rebuked, as it is said Mark Antony's was by Caesar.
I do oppose My patience to his fury, and am arm'd To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, The very tyranny and rage of his.
We that are true lovers run into strange capers; but as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in love mortal in folly.
What, gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do; it cannot speak, For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see the waters swell before a boisterous storm.
In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages, long ago betid
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art As glorious to this night, being o'er my head As is a winged messenger of heaven
In God's name cheerly on, courageous friends, To reap the harvest of perpetual peace By this one bloody trial of sharp war.
The love of wicked men converts to fear; That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death.
Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
Pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits that have dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.
His life was gentle; and the elements So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, THIS WAS A MAN!
I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.(IAGO,ActI,SceneI)
Sweet love! Sweet lines! Sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn
Perseverance... keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail in monumental mockery.
So, you are very welcome to our house. It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.
The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows. They are polluted off'rings, more abhorred! Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
For where thou art, there is the world itself, With every several pleasure in the world, And where thou art not, desolation.
Is this the generation of love? Hot blood, hot thoughts and hot deeds? Why, they are vipers. Is love a generation of vipers?
O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't!
Children wish fathers looked but with their eyes; fathers that children with their judgment looked; and either may be wrong.
And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ; And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.
Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome; therefore I will depart unkissed.
Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench; I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!
My father names me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,- One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never.
Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.
Glory is like a circle in the water, which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, till, by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.
We make trifles of terrors, Ensconcing ourselves into seeming knowledge, When we should submit ourselves to an unknown fear.
O,speak to me no more;these words like daggers enter my ears.(a fancy way of saying SHUT UP!)" — William Shakespeare "hamlet
Nay, had I pow'r, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth.
The strawberry grows underneath the nettle And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality.
Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.
She says I am not fair, that I lack manners; She calls me proud, and that she could not love me, Were man as rare as Phoenix.
Lords, knights and gentlemen, what I should say My tears gainsay; for every word I speak, Ye see I drink the water of my eye.
Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears Moist it again, and frame some feeling line That may discover such integrity.
He took the bride about the neck and kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack that at the parting all the church did echo.
Let me have men about me that are fat... Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
The most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, is, to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company.
I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.
Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny. It hath been Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings.
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain
Thou dost conspire against thy friend, Iago, If thou but think'st him wronged, and mak'st his ear A stranger to thy thoughts.
The thorny point Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show Of smooth civility; yet am I inland bred And know some nurture.
This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it.
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth; But like of each thing that in season grows.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought.