William Shakespeare Quotes - Page 60 | Just Great DataBase

I dare do all that may become a man, who dares more is none...

Lady Macduff: [To her son] Sirrah, your father's dead:And What will you do now? How will you live?Son: As birds do, mother.Lady Macduff: What, with worms and flies?Son: With what I get, I mean. and so do they

Look here upon this picture, and on this...

Out, damned spot

To be thus is nothing, but to be safely thus...

Nought’s had, all’s spent, where our desire is got without content.

All is the fear, and nothing is the love, as little is the wisdom, where the flight so runs against all reason.

Each new mornNew widows howl, new orphans cry, new sorrowsStrike heaven on the face, that it resoundsAs if it felt with Scotland, and yelled outLike syllable of dolor.

L'amor d'homes dolents es converteix en por;la por en odi, i l'odi fa que l'un, o bé tots dos,esdevinguin perill d'una mort merescuda.

When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again?

Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair:

I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the worldHave so incensed that I am reckless whatI do to spite the world.

ما الحياة إلا ظل يمر ..ممثل مسكين، يتحرك، ويستعرض لساعة على المسرح ..ثم لا تعود نسمعه؛ إنها قصة،مليئة بالضجيج، بالغضب، يرويها أبله، ولا معنى لها.

What relish is in this? How runs the stream?Or I am mad, or else this is a dream.Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep.If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

But rather reason thus with reason fetter: Love sough is good but given unsought is better.

Cucullus non facit monachum; that’s as much to say, as I wear not motley in my brain.

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

         O mistress mine! Where are you roaming?          O, stay and hear: your true love’s coming,               That can sing both high and low. 40            Trip no further, pretty sweeting;          Journeys end in lovers meeting,               Every wise man’s son doth know.

Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,/ Wherein the...enemy does much.

What kind o' man is he?""Why, of mankind.