Quotes from William Shakespeare

Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood.

How now, my sweet creature of bombast! How long is't ago, Jack, since thou saw'st thien own knee?

For I am born to tame you, Kate, And bring you from a wild Kate to a Kate Comfortable as other household Kates.

True it is that we have seen better days.

There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; therefore the sadness is without limit.

How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell. Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.

What you do Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet. I'ld have you do it ever: when you sing, I'ld have you buy and sell so, so give alms, Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs, To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that; move still, still so, And own no other function: each your doing, So singular in each particular, Crowns what you are doing in the present deed, That all your acts are queens.

Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom, It helps not, it prevails not.

Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called 'fools'.

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

Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.

What art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy death.

Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things.

Fate, show thy force; ourselves we do not owe; what is decreed must be, and be this so.

Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass but my madness speaks.

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

How shall I abide In this dull world, which in thy absence is No better than a sty?

I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him.

Juliet is the east and i am the sun.

so full of shapes is fancy

Oh, God! I have an ill-divining soul!

I am gone, though I am here. There is no love in you. Nay, I pray you let me go.

Scratching could not make it worse. . . such a face as yours.

More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before: The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past