Quotes from William Shakespeare

Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful

My heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand.

Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege; The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge.

O, had I but followed the arts!

thus with a kiss I die

There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

To die, - To sleep, - To sleep! Perchance to dream: - ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life;

O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father refuse thy name, thou art thyself thou not a montegue, what is montegue? tis nor hand nor foot nor any other part belonging to a man What is in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, So Romeo would were he not Romeo called retain such dear perfection to which he owes without that title, Romeo, Doth thy name! And for that name which is no part of thee, take all thyself.

Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

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.

Dispute not with her: she is lunatic.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more. Men were deceivers ever, One foot in sea, and one on shore, To one thing constant never. Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into hey nonny, nonny. Sing no more ditties, sing no more Of dumps so dull and heavy. The fraud of men was ever so Since summer first was leafy. Then sigh not so, but let them go, And be you blithe and bonny, Converting all your sounds of woe Into hey, nonny, nonny.

Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.

Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.

Expectation is the root of all heartache.

For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Listen to many, speak to a few.

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.

Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. then your love would also change.

Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake- its everything except what it is! (Act 1, scene 1)

Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.

One may smile, and smile, and be a villain; at least I'm sure it may be so in Denmark.