William Shakespeare Quotes - Page 64 | Just Great DataBase

وإذا لم تكن الفضيلة عندك طبعا فلتكن تطبعا ،فإن التعود قوة جبارة،وهي تارة شيطان يقتل الشعور ويعودنا الشرور،وتارة ملك كريم يدربنا على أعمال جميلة طيبة،ويلبسنا الحلة اللائقة بذلك.

Polonius: My lord, I will take my leave of you. Hamlet: You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal...

It is not nor it cannot come to good.

إن مخاوف المرأة ومحبتها تسيران جنبا إلى جنب،فتهدأ في الرخاء وتنشط في الأزمات،ولقد علمت بالبرهان القاطع مدى محبتي،وعلى قدر حبي تكون مخاوفي،ومتى كان الحب عظيما،كان أقل شك مثيرا للخوف،فإن تزايدت المخاوف وعظمت نما الحب أيضا وصار عظيما

She speaks much of her father; says she hearsThere’s tricks i’ the world; and hems, and beats her heart;Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in doubt,That carry but half sense.(Ophelia)

What if this cursed hand were thicker than itself with brother's blood, is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens to wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy but to confront the visage of offense? And what's in prayer but this twofold force, to be forestalled ere we come to fall, or pardoned being down? Then I'll look up. My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer can serve my tern? 'Forgive me my foul murder'?

وليس في العالم شئ يظل محتفظا بجودته وجدته،لأن الجودة متى اكتملت أفناها نموها المتزايد،وواجبنا أن نبادر بالعمل حين تتوافر لنا الإرادة لأن هذه الإرادة لا تلبث أن تتحول وتتبدل،ويعتريها الهمود،فترجئ ما كانت تزمع عمله وتلتمس لهذا البطء والإرجاء مختلف المعاذير

A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!-King Richard, from Richard III

Wikipedia

Diseases desperate grown,By desperate appliance are relieved,Or not at all.

But that the dread of something after death,The undiscover'd country from whose bournNo traveller returns, puzzles the willAnd makes us rather bear those ills we haveThan fly to others that we know not of?

i knew him, Horatio

I'll be your foil, Laertes: in mine ignorance your skill shall, like a star i' the darkest night, stick fiery off indeed.

to die, to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream. ay there's the rub. for in that sleep of death, what dreams may come?

Purpose is but the slave to memory,Of violent birth, but poor validity;

Marry, this is miching mal hecho. It means mischief!

Rightly to be greatIs not to stir without great argument,But greatly to find quarrel in a strawWhen honor’s at the stake. How stand I then,That have a father killed, a mother stained,Excitements of my reason and my blood,And let all sleep—while, to my shame, I seeThe imminent death of twenty thousand men,That for a fantasy and trick of fameGo to their graves like beds, fight for a plotWhereon the numbers cannot try the cause,Which is not tomb enough and continentTo hide the slain? Oh, from this time forth,My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!

Who's there?

Frailty, thy name is woman!—A little month, or ere those shoes were oldWith which she follow'd my poor father's body,Like Niobe, all tears:—

Если теперь, так, значит, не потом; если не потом, так, значит, теперь; если не теперь, то все равно когда-нибудь; готовность — это все