Quotes by William Shakespeare

No longer mourn for me when I am deadThan you shall hear the surly sullen bellGive warning to the world that I am fledFrom this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell;Nay, if you read this line, remember notThe hand that writ it; for I love you so,That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,If thinking on me then would make you woe.

Remember thee? Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seatin this distracted globe. Remember thee?

Love is holy.

Theres a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads onto fortune, omitted, all their voyages end in shallows and miseries. Upon such tide are we now...

През дрипите прозира всеки грях,а мантии и шуби скриват всичко!

I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow worldLike a Colossus; and we petty menWalk under his huge legs, and peep aboutTo find ourselves dishonourable graves.

Go wisely and slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall.

Theres an old saying that applies to me: you cant lose a game if you dont play the game. (Act 1, scene 4)

He that is thy friend indeed,He will help thee in thy need:If thou sorrow, he will weep;If thou wake, he cannot sleep:Thus of every grief in heartHe with thee doth bear a part.These are certain signs to knowFaithful friend from flattering foe.

Under the greenwood tree,Who loves to lie with meAnd tune his merry note,Unto the sweet birds throat;Come hither, come hither, come hither.Here shall he seeNo enemyBut winter and rough weather.

A lover goes toward his beloved as enthusiastically as a schoolboy leaving his books, but when he leaves his girlfriend, he feels as miserable as the schoolboy on his way to school. (Act 2, scene 2)

All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,For as you were when first your eye I eyd, Such seems your beauty still.

Fondling, she saith, since I have hemmd thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, Ill be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

Thus weary of the world, away she hies,And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aidTheir mistress mounted through the empty skiesIn her light chariot quickly is conveyd;Holding their course to Paphos, where their queenMeans to immure herself and not be seen.

My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun;Coral is far more red than her lips red;If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.I have seen roses damaskd, red and white,But no such roses see I in her cheeks;And in some perfumes is there more delightThan in the breath that from my mistress reeks.I love to hear her speak, yet well I knowThat music hath a far more pleasing sound;I grant I never saw a goddess go;My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare.

Then others for breath of words respect,Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.

O, how this spring of love resemblethThe uncertain glory of an April day,Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,And by and by a cloud takes all away!

I take thee at thy word:Call me but love, and Ill be new baptized;Henceforth I never will be Romeo.