Quotes from William Shakespeare

The undiscovered country form whose born no traveler returns.

Let good digestion wait on appetite and health on both.

To be a well-flavored man is the gift of fortune, but to write or read comes by nature.

O mischief, thou art swift to enter in the thoughts of desperate men!

The royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war; This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea.

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Feared by their breed and famous by their birth.

Where is your ancient courage? You were used to say extremities was the trier of spirits; That common chances common men could bear; That when the sea was calm all boats alike showed mastership in floating.

Good counselors lack no clients.

Though those who are betrayed do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe.

Some guard these traitors to the block of death, Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath.

We wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.

Remembrance of things past.

Tomorrow is Saint Valentines day, All in the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your Valentine.

Gold is worse poison to a man's soul, doing more murders in this loathsome world, than any mortal drug.

Insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal.

Who can be wise, amazed, temperate and furious, Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man.

There is nothing good or bad, but thinking makes it so.

Send danger from the east unto the west, so honor cross it from the north to south.

The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger.

Everything that gristles is not gold.

All that glisters is not gold; Often have you heard that told.

The purest treasure mortal times afford, is spotless reputation; that away, men are but gilded loam or painted clay.

If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work; But when they seldom come, they wished for come.

How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good dead in a naughty world.