Quotes
Quotes - Shakespeare
False as dicers' oaths.
A rhapsody of words.
What act
That roars so loud, and thunders in the index?
Look here, upon this picture, and on this,
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.
See, what a grace was seated on this brow:
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself;
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;
A station like the herald Mercury
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill,--
A combination and a form indeed,
Where every god did seem to set his seal,
To give the world assurance of a man.
At your age
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble.
O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell,
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones,
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax,
And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge,
Since frost itself as actively doth burn,
And reason panders will.
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole,
And put it in his pocket!
A king of shreds and patches.
Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.
How is 't with you,
That you do bend your eye on vacancy?
This is the very coinage of your brain:
This bodiless creation ecstasy
Is very cunning in.
Bring me to the test,
And I the matter will re-word; which madness
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace,
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul.
Confess yourself to heaven;
Repent what's past; avoid what is to come.
Assume a virtue, if you have it not.
That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,
Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.
Refrain to-night,
And that shall lend a kind of easiness
To the next abstinence: the next more easy;
For use almost can change the stamp of nature.
I must be cruel, only to be kind:
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
For 't is the sport to have the enginer
Hoist with his own petar.
Diseases desperate grown
By desperate appliance are relieved,
Or not at all.
A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm.
Sure, he that made us with such large discourse,
Looking before and after, gave us not
That capability and godlike reason
To fust in us unused.
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.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt,
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning betime.
Then up he rose, and donn'd his clothes.
