William Shakespeare Quotes - Page 10 | Just Great DataBase

Many a true word hath been spoken in jest.

Full fathom five thy father lies;Of his bones are coral made;Those are pearls that were his eyes:Nothing of him that doth fade,But doth suffer a sea-changeInto something rich and strange.Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong Hark! now I hear them,—Ding-dong, bell.

Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.

Now I will believe that there are unicorns...

Who is it that can tell me who I am?

There's small choice in rotten apples.

All causes shall give way: I am in bloodStepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more,Returning were as tedious as go o’er.

Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep.

There is a tide in the affairs of menWhich, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;Omitted, all the voyage of their lifeIs bound in shallows and in miseries.On such a full sea are we now afloat;And we must take the current when it serves,Or lose our ventures.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief, That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious; Her vestal livery is but sick and green And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.It is my lady, O, it is my love!Oh, that she knew she were!

Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without deserving.(Iago, Act II, scene iii)

The Devil hath powerTo assume a pleasing shape.

O, full of scorpions is my mind!

Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.

Love's stories written in love's richest books.To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes.

Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.

The evil that men do lives after them;The good is oft interred with their bones.

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.

Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.

So we grew together,Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,But yet an union in partition,Two lovely berries moulded on one stem.