Quotes from William Shakespeare

Tell me, sweet lord, what is 't that takes from thee Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth And start so often when thou sit'st alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks And given my treasures and my rights of thee To thick-eyed musing and curst melancholy?

But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness.

I am sure care's an enemy to life.

I had rather be a toad, and live upon the vapor of a dungeon, than keep a corner in the thing I love for others uses.

Thou art a votary to fond desire

Zwounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call me a coward, by the Lord, I'll stab thee.

I have a wife I love. I wish she were in heaven so she could appeal to some power to make this dog Jew change his mind. NERISSA It's nice you're offering to sacrifice her behind her back. That wish of yours could start quite an argument back at home.

The night is long that never finds the day.

O, that is entertainment My bosom likes not, nor my brows!

Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least; nor are those empty-hearted whose low sounds reverb no hollowness.

Making a famine where abundance lies,   Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:

Mi pecado en tu boca se ha purgado. JULIETA Pecado que en mi boca quedaría. ROMEO Repruebas con dulzura. ¿Mi pecado? ¡Devuélvemelo!

Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not perceive / That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?

There's meaning in thy snores.

We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly follow'd.

You see we do, yet see you but our hands And this the bleeding business they have done: Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful

What is thy body but a swallowing grave, Seeming to bury that posterity Which, by the rights of time, thou needs must have If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity? If so, the world will hold thee in disdain, Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain.

I am to wait, though waiting so be hell. Sonnet 58.13

Dolor moderado indica amor; dolor en exceso, pura necedad.

One doth not know / How much an ill word may empoison liking.

Beshrew me, but you have a quick wit. SPEED: And yet it cannot overtake your slow purse.

Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts; ... Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them ...

I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.

Wilt thou reach stars because they shine on thee?