Quotes
Quotes - Shakespeare
Like stones of worth, they thinly placed are,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme.
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o'ersways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
And art made tongue-tied by authority.
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill.
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
That time of year thou may'st in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,--
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read,
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse
When all the breathers of this world are dead;
You still shall live--such virtue hath my pen--
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing.
Do not drop in for an after-loss.
Ah, do not, when my heart hath'scap'd this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purpos'd overthrow.
When proud-pied April, dress'd in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
Still constant is a wondrous excellence.
And beauty, making beautiful old rhyme.
My nature is subdu'd
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments: love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds.
'T is better to be vile than vile esteem'd,
When not to be receives reproach of being;
And the just pleasure lost which is so deem'd,
Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing.
No, I am that I am, and they that level
At my abuses reckon up their own.
That full star that ushers in the even.
So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kinds of arguments and questions deep,
All replication prompt, and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and sleep.
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,
He had the dialect and different skill,
Catching all passion in his craft of will.
O father, what a hell of witchcraft lies
In the small orb of one particular tear.
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.
Crabbed age and youth
Cannot live together.
Have you not heard it said full oft,
A woman's nay doth stand for naught?
Cursed be he that moves my bones.
