“Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.”
— William Shakespeare
“Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.”
“No legacy is so rich as honesty.”
“Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!”
“What’s past is prologue.”
“The breaking of so great a thing should make A greater crack: the round world Should have shook lions into civil streets, And citizens to their dens.”
“Brevity is the soul of wit.”
“What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form, in moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?”
“We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”
“All things are ready, if our mind be so.”
“To die, to sleep – To sleep, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...”
“Be great in act, as you have been in thought.”
“Lord, what fools these mortals be!”
“Peace? I hate the word as I hate hell and all Montagues.”
“When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.”
“Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.”
“O God, I could be bound in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space – were it not that I have bad dreams.”
“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there’s nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger.”
“Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.”
“The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!”
“Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.”
“I love thee, I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.”
“True love cannot be found where it truly does not exist, nor can it be hidden where it truly does.”
“Beware the ides of March.”
“Discretion is the better part of valor.”
“They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.”
“Bid me run, and I will strive with things impossible.”
“The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones.”
“God shall be my hope, my stay, my guide and lantern to my feet.”
“And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol’n out of holy writ; And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.”
“I am not bound to please thee with my answer.”
“Some rise by sin, and some by virtues fall.”
“The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.”
“The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”
“I am in blood Stepp’d in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o’er.”
“As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods. They kill us for their sport.”
“Men in rage strike those that wish them best.”
“Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.”
“People’s good deeds we write in water. The evil deeds are etched in brass.”
“Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”
“If we are true to ourselves, we can not be false to anyone.”
“Many a true word hath been spoken in jest.”
“He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. He that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.”
“All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told: Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold: Gilded tombs do worms enfold.”
“Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world Like a Colossus; and we petty men Walk under his huge legs, and peep about To find ourselves dishonourable graves.”
“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.”
“Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man’s son doth know.”
“Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.”
“Oh, I am fortune’s fool!”
“Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.”
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