Quotes
Quotes - Shakespeare
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,
Against the use of nature. Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings.
Nothing is
But what is not.
If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me.
Come what come may,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.
Nothing in his life
Became him like the leaving it; he died
As one that had been studied in his death
To throw away the dearest thing he owed,
As 't were a careless trifle.
There's no art
To find the mind's construction in the face.
More is thy due than more than all can pay.
Yet do I fear thy nature;
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.
What thou wouldst highly,
That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false,
And yet wouldst wrongly win.
That no compunctious visitings of nature
Shake my fell purpose.
Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
May read strange matters. To beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under 't.
Which shall to all our nights and days to come
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself
Unto our gentle senses.
The heaven's breath
Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze,
Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle:
Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed,
The air is delicate.
If it were done when 't is done, then 't were well
It were done quickly: if the assassination
Could trammel up the consequence, and catch
With his surcease success; that but this blow
Might be the be-all and the end-all here,
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,
We 'ld jump the life to come. But in these cases
We still have judgment here; that we but teach
Bloody instructions, which being taught, return
To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice
To our own lips.
Besides, this Duncan
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been
So clear in his great office, that his virtues
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against
The deep damnation of his taking-off;
And pity, like a naked new-born babe,
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed
Upon the sightless couriers of the air,
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,
That tears shall drown the wind. I have no spur
To prick the sides of my intent, but only
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,
And falls on the other.
I have bought
Golden opinions from all sorts of people.
Letting "I dare not" wait upon "I would,"
Like the poor cat i' the adage.
I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more is none.
Nor time nor place
Did then adhere.
Macb. If we should fail?
Lady M. We fail!
But screw your courage to the sticking-place,
And we 'll not fail.
Memory, the warder of the brain.
There's husbandry in heaven;
Their candles are all out.
Shut up
In measureless content.
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
