Quotes by William Shakespeare

Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate!O any thing, of nothing first create!O heavy lightness, serious vanity,Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms,Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health,Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!This love feel I, that feel no love in this.

Out of her favour, where I am in love.

Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.

Make me a willow cabin at your gateAnd call upon my soul within the house;Write loyal cantons of contemned loveAnd sing them loud even in the dead of night;Hallo your name to the reverberate hillsAnd make the babbling gossip of the airCry out Olivia! O, you should not restBetween the elements of air and earthBut you should pity me

HERMIAGod speed fair Helena! whither away?HELENACall you me fair? that fair again unsay.Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair!Your eyes are lode-stars; and your tongues sweet airMore tuneable than lark to shepherds ear,When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.Sickness is catching: O, were favour so,Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go;My ear should catch your voice, my eye your eye,My tongue should catch your tongues sweet melody.Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated,The rest Id give to be to you translated.O, teach me how you look, and with what artYou sway the motion of Demetrius heart.HERMIAI frown upon him, yet he loves me still.HELENAO that your frowns would teach my smiles such skill!HERMIAI give him curses, yet he gives me love.HELENAO that my prayers could such affection move!HERMIAThe more I hate, the more he follows me.HELENAThe more I love, the more he hateth me.HERMIAHis folly, Helena, is no fault of mine.HELENANone, but your beauty: would that fault were mine!

Sometimes we punish ourselves the most.

Sometimes we punish our selves the most.

Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.

He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes bove wisdom, grace and fear:And you all know, securityIs mortals chiefest enemy.

Theres some ill planet reigns:I must be patient till the heavens lookWith an aspect more favourable. Good my lords,I am not prone to weeping, as our sexCommonly are; the want of which vain dewPerchance shall dry your pities: but I haveThat honourable grief lodged here which burnsWorse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords,With thoughts so qualified as your charitiesShall best instruct you, measure me; and soThe kings will be performd!

Whats Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,That he should weep for her?

The course of true love never die run smooth

Nice customs curtsy to great kings.

The sleeping and the dead are but as pictures. Lady Macbeth

Brevity is the soul of wit.

Jack shall have Jill.Nought shall go ill.

Good madonna, give me leave toprove you a fool.

The sweat of industry would dry and die, But for the end it works to.

No longer mourn for me when I am deadthan you shall hear the surly sullen bell give warning to the world that I am fled from this vile world with vilest worms to dwell: nay, if you read this line, remember not the hand that writ it, for I love you so, that I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,if thinking on me then should make you woe. O! if, I say, you look upon this verse when I perhaps compounded am with clay, do not so much as my poor name rehearse; but let your love even with my life decay; lest the wise world should look into your moan, and mock you with me after I am gone.